


don’t date your friends

by compendiary



Category: GOT7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-01-18 05:04:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 33,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12381471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compendiary/pseuds/compendiary
Summary: mark picks up a job for the summer working as a swimming instructor at a country club and meets jackson. they strike up an arrangement to be friends with benefits with no strings attached. these things are easier said than done.





	1. Chapter 1

Mark Tuan doesn’t plan on taking up a part-time job for his second summer in Seoul because he spent his last one working in a video game store, and it wasn’t very pleasant. The pay was subpar, he struggled with communication in the Korean language, and the only upside was that he got to play games as part of demonstrations because he was the prettiest of the floor staff (and thus attracted the most attention from customers).

He expects to do big things this summer. He’s going to intern at a law firm, pick up a new hobby, and spend the rest of his time watching documentaries on Netflix like an intellectual. Except he doesn’t because he forgets to apply for internships, doesn’t know what activities he’d like to try out, and doesn’t have a subscription to Netflix.

It’s all rather ironic.

When the semester ends and June rolls around, the sun is much brighter than the weeks before and Mark comes to form an opinion that it’s okay that he doesn’t have concrete summer plans. It’s not like his housemate, Park Jinyoung, has anything planned for himself either. He makes a pact with Jinyoung to spend the next three months holed up in their apartment together, playing Overwatch on their Xbox and calling for Chinese takeout.

That arrangement doesn’t last for very long, because two people can only stomach _that_ much gaming and _kung pao_ chicken. Jinyoung cracks first four days in, complaining about how he should just go home to Changwon and help out in his father’s company.

Mark admits that he wishes he made an effort to seek out internships, even if he does end up with a measly allowance for his labour.

Jinyoung’s mental breakdown leads him to send repeated text messages to his best friend — “No offence to you, Mark.” — Im Jaebum at 3.47 in the afternoon, during Jaebum’s scheduled nap time. Surprisingly, Jaebum answers within two minutes, which is a record breaker since he’s the type to leave his phone unattended only to reply five hours later when his response is no longer of importance.

Jaebum tells Jinyoung that he can have his job at the country club as a swim coach because he was offered an internship at a conglomerate beginning next week. Jinyoung counters that he can’t swim before forwarding the message to Mark.

Mark has experience of being a junior lifeguard back in Los Angeles where he worked part-time at the community pool. It wasn’t particularly rewarding. His job consisted mostly of reminding people not to run near the pool only for them to ignore him and run anyway.

“That might be American culture,” Jinyoung says when Mark recounts that to him. “Plus, don’t you Americans rave about getting sick suntans during the summer?”

Mark reluctantly agrees. “But what about you?” he asks Jinyoung after deciding to interview for the position.

Jinyoung shrugs, lying back onto the carpet. “I might go back to Changwon, I guess.”

“And leave me here?”

There’s a pregnant pause that envelops the room as Jinyoung contemplates this. “You’re right,” Jinyoung exclaims after thirty seconds of intense thinking. “I can’t leave you alone. I’ll find something to do.”

This is the beginning of a very eventful summer.

 

* * *

  

Mark forgets that he has an interview on Friday morning and ends up running late. He wakes up 10 minutes to 11am, and he considers forgetting about it to continue sleeping in, but Jinyoung’s incessant nagging from his bedroom door successfully gets him to climb out of bed with his eyes only barely open.

He pulls on a loose t-shirt and a pair of ripped jeans, promising to meet Jinyoung in Myeongdong after so that they can have lunch with Jaebum. Mark doesn’t have time to fix his bedhead, and he travels to the country club as he is, pretending his look is ‘haute couture’.

When he arrives at the administration office, he’s surprised to learn that the job opening Jaebum left behind isn’t for a swim coach, but a _children’s_ swim coach. “You must be mistaken,” Mark says to the admin behind the desk. “My friend hates kids, he wouldn’t have been working with children.”

The admin pushes his glasses up his nose bridge, pursing his lips. Mark sees the name ‘Choi Youngjae’ on his desk. “I’m pretty sure Im Jaebum left behind his post as a children’s swimming instructor,” Youngjae states, with a good-natured smile. “Anyway, you get the job. Can you start now?”

“Now?” Mark asks, incredulous. “Look, I’m—”

Mark wants to finish his sentence, but he doesn’t know how to fill in the gaps. “I’m afraid of children?” or “Children hate me?” Those don’t sound very valid to his ears. His age-old fear of children seems insignificant when he considers the work hours and the pay.

He’s only going to have to work four days a week at the maximum, with each session only lasting two hours, usually in the late afternoon. The pay is also decent when compared to the minimum wage he was earning last year as a sales attendant.

Youngjae is watching him as he taps his pen on the table rhythmically. “Look,” he starts, handing him his résumé back. “This is a good opportunity. You don’t have to do much, some other guy’s going to do all the heavy-lifting. You’re just an assistant, really. He’ll do the coaching, you can support him.”

“I have to work with someone else?”

Youngjae nods. “Speak of the devil,” Youngjae whispers when the door to the office is pushed open.

In walks a man, not taller than Mark himself, in a navy baseball cap and dark sunglasses. He has a black tank top and a pair of khaki shorts on. His built is lean and toned, and his skin sun-kissed. Mark tries not to stare for too long.

“Jackson!” Youngjae yells, waving the man over. “This is Mark. He’ll be replacing Jaebum.”

Jackson saunters towards them, holding out a hand for Mark to shake. “Jackson Wang,” he says, as Mark takes his hand. Jackson uses his free hand to take his sunglasses off, giving Mark a once-over. “Wait, are you Mark?”

Mark blinks at him a few times, wriggling his hand out of Jackson’s grasp. “Yes, I think Youngjae just told you that.”

Jackson laughs, a high-pitched and loud sound, and Mark sees Youngjae cover his ears with his fingers. “You don’t remember me?” Jackson asks. When Mark shakes his head for no, Jackson sighs. “That might be a good thing. Anyway, welcome aboard.”

Jackson is handsome. He has bleached blond hair, a bright smile, and he generally has features that scream of a heartbreaker.

“Just do whatever he tells you to,” Youngjae supplies unhelpfully, going back to type into his computer. “Take good care of him, Jackson.”

Jackson beams at Mark as he nods, gesturing for Mark to follow him. “Don’t worry, I will.”

 

“I suppose you won’t be joining us in the water today,” Jackson points out as he carries a bag of pool noodles from the office towards the children’s pool under the shade outdoors.

The swimming pool looks to be about two feet deep, which will probably reach around Mark’s knees. “No,” Mark replies, feeling embarrassed but not guilty. He’s hoping to stay on the sidelines for a little longer, kids aren’t really his forte. “Unless I rip my jeans into shorts at the knee holes, I don’t think so.”

Jackson chuckles, leaving the equipment next to a lounge chair. He points towards the chair, telling Mark to take a seat. “The children aren’t coming for another 10 minutes,” he explains. “I usually do some light stretching before classes. You can sit and watch.”

Mark plops down onto the end of the chair, picking up a pink pool noodle as he watches Jackson stretch his hamstrings. “Back at the office, you asked if I remembered you?” Mark questions, recalling their initial meeting. “Do I know you from somewhere? I’m sorry, my memory’s terrible.”

Jackson moves on to stretch his arm muscles, smiling down at Mark with his eyes twinkling. “Oh, that? Don’t worry about it. I just know you because I’ve seen you around campus with Jaebum, that’s all.”

“Are you close friends with Jaebum?”

Mark is aware that it sounds like he’s interrogating Jackson, but he’s genuinely curious. Jackson doesn’t seem like the type of person Jaebum would get along with, at least not from Mark’s first impression of him.

Jackson is chatty, proven by how he managed to strike up conversation with just about every member of staff they passed by on their way over to the pool. Jackson doesn’t just make small talk with them, either, he seems genuinely interested in how they’re doing. Jaebum, on the other hand, gravitates towards being antisocial more often than not.

“The closest,” Jackson states, laughing after. “I’m kidding. He’s alright. We met at the gym here, that’s why we picked up this side job.”

“Right, about this… _side job_ ,” Mark begins, scratching the back of his head hesitantly. “Jaebum was teaching kids? We’re talking actual kids?”

Jackson nods, a huge grin on his face as he leans backwards and arches his back. “Yeah,” Jackson replies, as a matter of fact. “Honestly, I wasn’t too excited about it either. But Youngjae back at the office said there weren’t any takers, so we did him a favour.”

Mark looks on as Jackson returns to normal standing position, gazing down at Mark with understanding. Jackson doesn’t come off as the type of person who likes children. Mark thinks that he doesn’t himself, either.

“Did Jaebum not tell you?”

“No, he just said he was a swim coach.”

Jackson cackles. “What an elitist bastard,” he mutters to himself, before apologising for cursing. “Sorry, bad habit. Comes with working with Jaebum for awhile.”

Mark shrugs noncommittally. “It’s cool. But I don’t think cursing in front of the children is acceptable.”

“Nope. Absolutely not.” Jackson gestures for Mark to scoot over in the lounge chair, then takes a seat next to him. “I once splashed Jaebum in the eyes with water as a joke, and he yelled ‘motherfucker!’ at me. I had to pretend it wasn’t a big deal, right? Or the kids would catch on. Anyway, five minutes later, some kid swallowed some water while he was swimming and he shouted ‘motherfucker’ at the pool when he could finally breathe again.”

“So you taught an innocent child to cuss?”

“Not me,” Jackson denies. “Jaebum.”

Mark knows all about how impressionable young children can be. He has two nieces himself, back in California, and he accidentally introduced them to the world of Korean profanities the last time he visited home. Thankfully, his sister is blissfully ignorant when it comes to the Korean language, otherwise Mark would be in trouble for spreading the casual usage of the phrase “son of a bitch” whenever an accident happens.

They sit in silence for a couple of minutes as Jackson uses his phone. Mark sees his eyebrows knit together as he types into the screen with concentration.

That focused expression on Jackson’s face disappears immediately when a boy and a girl, looking to be about four and five-years-old respectively, totter up towards them, giggling. They have floats already strapped around their arms.

“Jackson- _oppa_!” the little girl greets, her little hands reaching up to hold Jackson’s face. She gives him a kiss on the nose happily before stepping back to stand next to her brother.

“Hi, kids!” Jackson exclaims, patting the boy’s head. He then grabs Mark’s upper arm and introduces him to the children. “So, kids, this is Mark. He’ll be helping me from now on.”

“Where’s Scary- _hyung_?” the boy asks, blinking up at them with large eyes.

“Jaebum has to go to work, so he can’t play with us anymore.”

Mark forces a smile onto his face, worried that the boy (or the girl) will burst into tears. Judging by the way the boy nicknamed Jaebum ‘scary’, he doesn’t expect there to be much trouble with Mark replacing him. But there’s no way to be sure with kids. Mark doesn’t know the proper protocol for handling snotty, crying children. He can barely handle himself when he’s emotional, moreover a tiny human being.

The children don’t seem to be very disappointed as they nod in understanding, and Mark exhales the breath he was holding in anticipation.

“You kids grab a pool noodle and wait for me right here. I’ll go take a shower then we’ll get in the pool together, okay?” Jackson instructs them. He then turns to Mark as he stands up from the chair. “Keep an eye out for them.”

Mark blinks in reply.

Jackson then takes off his tank top in one swift motion, revealing what Mark can only describe as a defined abdomen, and a rather sturdy chest. Mark tries not to gawk for too long, hurriedly diverting his attention towards the two children who are crouched on the ground digging through the bag of pool noodles.

“Hold this for me.” Jackson passes Mark his shirt, and then his pants.

“What?” Mark blurts out when he sees the pants in his hand. He whips his head to look in Jackson’s direction, and Jackson is standing a metre away from him in a pair of tight black swim shorts. “You’re wearing _that_?”

“Swimming trunks are in the pool regulations.”

Mark gapes as Jackson walks towards the shower. He’s going to have to check the country club’s policy on swimwear, because there’s no way that he’s going to be wearing skimpy swimming trunks in public. Or in private, really. He's just not going to wear tiny swim shorts, full stop.

Jackson lets the children jump in after he gets into the pool first, and the pool is shallow with the water only coming up to the middle of Jackson’s thighs.

Mark pretends not to notice that Jackson has thick thighs that are actually pretty nice. In fact, he’s doubtful that Jackson even has thighs at all. He can’t see. Mark Tuan doesn’t have eyes.

Another two children soon arrive, and they make themselves known by jumping into the pool straight before Mark can say anything. Jackson doesn’t mind, though, and he goes over to greet them and to check if their floats are put on right.

“Mark!” Jackson shouts not long after, waving at him. “Make sure to look out for them!”

“What should I look out for?” Mark yells back.

He’s starting to get worried that this is more than he signed up for. The responsibility of multiple little lives is beginning to weigh down his shoulders. How did Jaebum do this? And, right, he hasn’t had the chance to let Jinyoung know that he won’t be able to make it for lunch yet.

There’s a lot on Mark’s mind as he waits for Jackson’s reply, which doesn’t come. Mark continues doing what he was doing before, mainly focusing his gaze on the children to avoid looking at Jackson. Jackson is attractive, yes, but the children are of larger importance.

“ _Hyung_!” one of the boys calls. He looks to be about five-years-old, and he waddles over to the edge of the pool where Mark’s lounge chair is closest to. “Help me out please!”

Mark ends up having to take the boy to the toilet because he “really needs to pee pee” and a million thoughts are running through his head as he holds the boy’s hand. Why did he take this job? What was he doing, thinking he could do this? How is he going to work with _kids_?

The trip to the washroom, however, goes smoothly. The boy does his own business, only asking for Mark’s help to “watch out for potty monsters.”

When they return to the pool, Mark suddenly thinks that kids are actually kind of cute. He ponders why he was always so uncertain about handling them. They’re pretty easy. When they’re not big, crying messes, they have those cherub-like cheeks and their laughs are filled with so much joy and innocence. There isn’t any manipulative intent in their actions because they’re still so pure.

He smiles, looking over how Jackson guides a little girl by her hands as she kicks her feet. She’s excited that she’s ‘swimming’ and she can’t stop giggling while Jackson encourages her to kick her feet with more force. Jackson notices Mark’s spectatorship, and he tells her to make a show of it by sweeping her arms aside.

She has floats attached to her upper arms, so Jackson gently lets go as she tries to show Mark her technique. Jackson’s hands are still hovering beside her in the water as he keeps a keen eye to see if she’s struggling with her movements.

“Great job!” Jackson praises when he catches her by the armpits to stop her. “How was that, Mark?”

Mark gives the girl two thumbs up as she beams up at him with pride. “That was beautiful!”

Mark approaches the boys in the corner, and one of them is the boy he previously guided to the toilet. “Where did you go earlier?” the other boy asks his friend as he tugs at the swim goggles around his eyes.

“I went to the toilet,” the boy replies, smiling up at Mark when he sees him approaching.

“Why didn’t you just ‘go’ in the pool?”

Oh, God. Mark feels the colour from his face pale. _That’s_ probably why he’s afraid of children.

 

* * *

 

Jinyoung isn’t happy that Mark forgets to tell him about missing lunch, but it’s the least of Mark’s worries. Jinyoung starts his new job down at the neighbourhood café next Monday, and he already can’t stop complaining about how much he hates one of his coworkers-to-be. Jinyoung is so busy ranting that he doesn’t remember to ask about Mark’s first day at work until the night of Saturday.

“How was it?” Jinyoung questions, poking his chopsticks at his dinner of _jjajangmyeon_ from a takeout box.

Mark has been waiting for him to ask. “Did you know that the job Jaebum left for me is a swim coach for _kids_?”

He expects Jinyoung to gape at him, but Jinyoung only nods without surprise on his features. “Yeah,” Jinyoung says, waving his chopsticks in the air a bit. “Are you telling me that you didn’t know?”

“How come you knew but I didn’t?”

“I was kidding, I didn’t know. Fill me in on all the details,” Jinyoung enthuses, dropping his act. He leans forward from his seat on the edge of the sofa. “We’re talking about the same Jaebum, right? Our mutual friend, Im Jaebum?”

Mark finishes off the last of his fried rice, keen to drag out the entire conversation so Jinyoung has to wait in suspense.

Jinyoung kicks him with a foot. “Quick, what were you saying about Jaebum working with kids?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” Mark deadpans. “Jaebum was teaching children how to swim. Or float, really, judging from what I saw yesterday.”

“How did you cope alone? My poor child…”

“I wouldn’t have been able to do it alone. There’s this guy named Jackson, he was working with Jaebum before, now he’s in charge. I’m helping him out now.”

Mark watches how Jinyoung’s eyes widen a bit in astonishment. “Jackson?” he asks. “Like, that guy from Hong Kong?”

Mark shrugs. “How would I know where he’s from? But I guess he had a foreign accent, so that might be him.”

Jinyoung chews on his mouthful of food slowly, nodding slowly in contemplation. “Nice, nice, nice,” he repeats after he swallows his noodles. “Fate’s a funny thing, isn’t it?”

“What are you talking about?”

Jackson hinted at the same thing when Mark met him the other day — that Mark’s met him before. That fact completely eludes Mark’s mind because there’s no way he wouldn’t remember someone like Jackson. Jackson’s not exactly an easy person to forget.

Mark has a decent memory when it comes to names and faces, too, so it’d be out of the ordinary for him to not recall who Jackson is.

“We talked to him briefly at a mixer,” Jinyoung answers, setting his takeout box down on the coffee table with a thud. “Jaebum introduced us. I don’t think you remember, though, you were pretty drunk by then.”

Mark is seated on the floor by the sofa, so he looks up at Jinyoung, bewildered. The last time he attended a mixer was almost two months ago. He woke up the next day in his bedroom, unsure how he got home or when he even fell asleep, with a hangover that could be ranked on the Richter scale. He planned to swear off alcohol then.

And he wasn’t successful, of course. That’s a story for another day.

Honestly, Mark doesn’t remember ever meeting Jackson. But he doesn’t remember a large chunk of that night to begin with. His memory of the party ends at the part where Jinyoung ditched him by the drinks to talk to a couple of people from their classes. It was a strategic location for Mark to serve himself drink after drink, but not the best spot to avoid small talk with random strangers.

“Uh huh,” Mark mumbles, getting up on his feet. He dusts off the back of his pants. “I can’t say I remember anything about that night.”

“He’s good looking,” Jinyoung comments. “You should go for it. This is the perfect setup.”

Mark shakes his head at Jinyoung, leaving to throw his empty takeout box into the rubbish bin in the kitchen. Jinyoung is still plotting out point by point how Mark can charm Jackson. “He’s not my type,” Mark snaps when he goes back to his spot on the carpet.

“Bullshit.”

“He’s not!”

“Whatever, we’ll see how long you can keep this act up.” There’s a knowing look on Jinyoung’s face because yes, Mark has a type. And unfortunately for Mark’s dignity, Jackson fits the bill.

It’s not like Mark is planning to date his coworker, though. That would be unprofessional and against every one of his life principles. He might find Jackson good looking, but that’s about it. There’s not going to be anything after that. Jackson is handsome and that’s the end of the story.

“He has a rep for getting around anyway,” Jinyoung surmises. “He’s quite the sweet-talker. Probably not the best for you, personality-wise.”

Mark rolls his eyes, uninterested in this unwarranted discussion of Jackson and their compatibility. “Thank you, but I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

Jinyoung lets the topic go after to torment Mark about his experience with children instead. “How many butts did you have to clean?”

“None, they’re not babies.”

“Say that again in a week. I’ve worked at a kindergarten before, and the amount of accidents that happen make them seem like they were _planned_ accidents.”

 

* * *

 

Jackson gives Mark a frantic call at 9am in the morning of Tuesday, saying that he forgot to let Mark know that they had a session in an hour. He sounds apologetic as he hears the way Mark fumbles for words to form a reply, having being frightened awake by the piercing sound of his phone’s ringtone.

“I… I’ll come by in a half hour,” Mark says, unable to stop himself from yawning into the receiver. “Sorry. Not a morning person.”

Jackson laughs, embarrassed. “No, I’m sorry. I forgot to tell you when we had to meet next, it’s my fault.”

“How did you get my number, anyway?” Mark asks, recalling that he didn’t give Jackson his phone number the other day.

“Uh, I asked Jaebum for it.”

“Okay… I’ll see you later, then,” Mark ends the call by awkwardly bidding Jackson a goodbye.

He gets ready in record time. He thinks he might have taken the quickest shower of his life as he wipes away the condensation on the surface of the mirror so he can watch himself as he brushes his teeth. He pulls on his swim shorts that thankfully go up to his knee, before putting on a pair of track bottoms over it.

“Jinyoung, I’m leaving!” Mark shouts as he grabs a loose t-shirt that he wouldn’t mind getting chlorine stains on. He runs towards the door, with only 10 minutes to spare to get to the country club.

Jinyoung is seated in the living area with a cup of coffee in his hands, scrolling through a news website on his laptop while Mark struggles to pull on his canvas shoes. “Just wear slippers,” Jinyoung chides, and Mark notices that he’s already dressed in his uniform for his afternoon shift at the café.

Mark kicks his Converse aside, slipping on a pair of slides. “Are you leaving for work soon?”

“Nope, I was supposed to be there to open up at 9, but Kim Yugyeom can handle himself.”

“That’s almost an hour ago,” Mark retorts, checking the time on his phone before slipping it into his back pocket. He checks that he has his keys and a change of clothes in his backpack, before opening the front door. “You’re going to lose your job, Jinyoung.”

“I’d be thankful for that. I’d rather get a deadly skin rash than go anywhere near Yugyeom again.”

“ _Jinyoung_ ,” Mark warns, with one foot out the door. “Just go to work, oh my God.”

 

Jackson is already there by the time Mark arrives. Mark tries to make his disheveled hair look like a intentional hairstyle by making of a show of ruffling the top of his head as he approaches Jackson.

Jackson has his arms crossed with his gym bag lying on the ground. He’s leaning on the wall next to the entrance to the administration office, scrolling through his phone with his eyebrows furrowed as he watches his screen. Jackson is in a loose muscle tee this time with a pair of joggers, and he doesn’t notice Mark’s presence.

Mark has a debate with himself over whether he should shout for Jackson’s attention or if he should just walk towards him slowly until Jackson realises that he’s there. Mark’s about to open his mouth when Jackson looks up from his phone with a grin spreading on his face.

“Hey,” Jackson greets, just as Mark jogs up to him with a few steps. “I’m so sorry about this morning. I was going to tell you last night but I forgot.”

Mark slides his hand down from his head to rub at the back of his neck. “It’s okay,” he replies, nodding slowly. “I needed to get up eventually anyway.”

Jackson still looks plagued by guilt, but he guides Mark towards the staff lockers where they can keep their belongings for the morning. “Did you bring a towel with you?” Jackson asks as he stuffs his gym bag into a compartment. He unzips his bag and pulls out a small face towel.

Mark knew that he was going to forget something. “No,” Mark regretfully says, internally groaning.

“It’s okay, you can use mine,” Jackson offers, throwing the towel over to Mark, who catches it with fumbling hands. “They provide us with clean towels in the showers, so don’t worry about that. I just like bringing my own for my face.”

“Then what will you use?”

Jackson pulls another towel out of his bag in the locker before slamming the locker door shut. “I always come prepared,” he states, waving the white towel in the air. He laughs a bit after doing that, and it’s the same high-pitched noise that Mark heard back when they first met.

It’s kind of adorable, actually. Not that Mark would ever say that out loud.

 

The children aren’t the same batch of kids as the other session from the week before, however Mark is less concerned about that because Jackson is shirtless and in his swimming trunks again and Mark doesn’t know if he's supposed to do the same.

Jackson’s been in the pool with three children since five minutes ago, and Mark is still struggling to decide if he wants to leave his shirt on. Mark pulls at the hem of his shirt, willing for a sign to appear to tell him what to do.

“Are you coming in or not?” Jackson shouts in a taunting manner, urging the kids to follow suit.

“I’m only going in if I can keep my shirt on.”

“Who said you had to take it off?”

Mark feels himself go pink in the cheeks as he stares back at Jackson defiantly. That’s true. The pool regulations say that t-shirts aren’t allowed with a big red cross on the drawing of a shirt, but the children’s pool is barely a pool at all. It’s more of a large puddle. Pool regulations shouldn’t apply to bodies of water that aren’t _pools_.

The lifeguard is nowhere to be seen, so who’s going to enforce the rules?

Jackson is still watching him as the kids roam around, flailing their arms around him in the water. Jackson tilts his head to a side and beams. “So?” he shouts. “What’s the verdict?”

Mark reminds himself that he’s being paid to do this. He can’t let Jackson do both their jobs, he’s going to have pull his own weight. Mark slips off his track bottoms and goes over to the edge of the pool, where the steps leading into the water are.

“Children,” Jackson instructs, gathering them to his side. “Let’s cheer Mark on. Come in, Mark!”

“Mark- _oppa_ , come in!” one of the girls, a three-year-old sitting in a baby float, says with the squeakiest voice that Mark has ever heard. She’s clapping happily as she looks up at Mark.

Mark nods, plunging one foot into the water. He winces when the water is colder than he expected. “I should’ve taken a shower first,” he mutters as he waddles down into the pool with his arms wide open unconsciously. It’s a grander entrance than necessary when all the children turn to watch him in awe.

Jackson receives Mark by holding him by the sides of his waist when he gets within reach. “There you go,” Jackson coos when Mark stops walking.

Looking down at Jackson’s hands still on his waist, Mark opens his mouth as he contemplates how to gently tell Jackson to let go. Jackson notices his surprise and promptly takes his hands away, chuckling in embarrassment.

“You looked a bit unstable there,” Jackson explains, turning to give the boy kicking around on a pool noodle a quick glance.

“The water’s cold,” Mark says, pursing his lips after. “Do I… look after one of them? What do we have to do, actually?”

Jackson gestures towards the children, who seem to be having the time of their lives mindlessly floating around in the water. “I usually get them to practice kicking. They’re still too young to do anything else,” he whispers the last part. “Most importantly, make sure they don’t swallow any water. It doesn’t end well whenever they do.”

Mark nods, pointing at a boy splashing with his hands a metre away from them. “I’ll bring him over to you.”

The boy is reluctant to listen to Mark because he was enjoying himself just playing around with the water. Mark considers leaving him alone, but a look at where Jackson has the other two kids lined up holding the edge of the pool gives Mark a sense that he can do this. Children aren’t _that_ complicated.

“It’ll be fun!” Mark exclaims enthusiastically as the boy looks back at him with doubt. Mark feels himself deflate. “Look, all your friends are doing it. Let’s go to Jackson, huh?”

The boy finally agrees after Mark continues incepting the idea that his friends are having a lot of fun without him. The boy caves in dejectedly, asking for Mark’s help to push him towards the side of the pool because his kicks aren’t strong enough to take him anywhere in the water yet.

Jackson acknowledges Mark’s effort by giving him a thumbs up when he sees Mark transporting the third kid over towards him. “Nice of you to join us!” Jackson teases the boy, waving him over. “We’re going to practice how to kick the water. You see? We can make patterns in the water when we kick.”

Jackson demonstrates by leaning forward into lying position and kicking his legs up and down over the surface of the water.

Mark thinks he looks sort of ridiculous, but it’s cute how he’s willing to get hands on with teaching the kids.

All the children put their best effort into kicking, and Mark watches proudly as the boy who was previously unhappy about being coaxed over is giggling as he splashes water in Jackson’s direction with his feet. “I hit you, Jackson- _hyung_!” he yells, kicking harder.

Jackson pretends to be wounded by his splashing which pleases the boy even more. “Attack Mark!” Jackson says, pointing at Mark. “Attack him!”

As the children angle their kicks towards Mark, Mark catches Jackson’s breathy chuckle as he gives Mark a wink before joining the children by splashing Mark with water using his hands. “Stop, kids,” Mark whines, holding up both his hands in defence. “Ouch! Ouch!”

Kids aren’t really _that_ difficult.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, do you want to grab some food?” Jackson asks after their third session together. It’s unexpected, but not unpleasant.

Mark agrees almost immediately, because he hasn’t eaten since having brunch at the café Jinyoung works at in the afternoon. It’s close to 6pm now, and it’s not a stretch that he’s already hungry after entertaining children for the past two hours. When they step out of the locker room, Mark sees the light rain coming down that isn’t exactly perfect weather for dining out.

“Okay,” Jackson drawls, blinking at the rain in disbelief. He turns to Mark, chuckling at their luck. “Why don’t you come over to my place? I’ll get pizza delivered.”

“I’m in,” Mark says, excited at the prospect of having pizza. “Are we going to make a run for it in the rain?”

“No, silly. Wait here.”

Jackson passes Mark his gym bag and jogs towards the administration office, coming out about a minute later with an umbrella in his hands. Mark sees Youngjae chasing after him, stopping at the door of the office to remind him to return the umbrella the next time he comes.

They fit under the umbrella, but just barely. Jackson’s bag takes up more space than necessary, and one of Mark’s shoulders is inadvertently sacrificed because Mark doesn’t want to monopolise the umbrella Jackson is holding. It’s not the worst of arrangements, though, because Jackson is gracious and keeps asking if Mark’s getting wet.

Mark’s the one who’s choosing to lie about the state of his clothing.

Jackson lives in a studio apartment just a short walk away from the country club. The interior is decorated in a minimalistic way, and every piece of furniture looks pristine and new.

They kick their shoes off in the corner next to the front door, and Mark is thankful that his sneakers aren’t as dirty as he thought they would be after such a trek. He takes his socks off, stuffing them into the interior of the shoes as he looks around Jackson’s apartment.

It’s incredibly neat for a bachelor’s pad.

“Make yourself at home,” Jackson announces, taking his phone out to make a call to a nearby pizza place. He pushes Mark lightly on the square of his back towards the living area. “What’s your opinion on pineapples on pizza?”

Mark collapses on the leather couch, noting that it’s barely been sat in from how it’s still very firm. “Do you want the truth or the lie?”

Jackson’s eyes widen in surprise, and he holds his hand up to his mouth as he gasps in dramatised shock. “If it’s not a definite no, does this mean you’re into pineapple pizza?”

“It’s just pineapples!” Mark argues, leaning forward from his seat. “Pizza’s pizza.”

“Is it too late for me to ask you to leave?” Jackson jokes, laughing into the receiver before straightening up suddenly in attention. “Hi, yes, sorry. I was talking to a friend earlier. Can I get a large pepperoni pizza, and a large… Hawaiian?” Jackson raises an eyebrow to ask for Mark’s approval as he talks to the operator on the phone.

Mark nods with a grin.

Jackson shakes his head in disappointment before asking for extra cheese on both the pizzas. When he hangs up after providing the operator with all the necessary details, he squints his eyes at Mark menacingly. “You’re the devil incarnate, aren’t you? _Pineapples on pizza._ ”

Mark rolls his eyes, tapping into his phone to send Jinyoung a text message to let him know that he won’t be joining him for dinner. “Why’d you order Hawaiian if you’re so against pineapples on pizza?”

“I’ll just pick them off my slices and give them to you,” Jackson shouts from where Mark assumes is the kitchen. He resurfaces with a six-pack of beer and a bottle of wine. “Beer, wine, or both?”

Mark stares up at him without answering.

“Who am I kidding? Of course it’s both.” There’s a mischievous look on Jackson’s face as he sets the drinks down on the glass coffee table. “Wait, or are you more of a hard liquor kind of guy? Soju? Brandy? Whisky?”

“Beer’s fine,” Mark quickly says, stopping Jackson before he can run to grab anymore alcohol. “I was actually planning to stop drinking.”

“And how has that been going?”

Mark meets Jackson’s eyes, and he hopes his own gaze doesn’t betray the fact that he still regularly takes shots of soju with his friends whenever they eat out at restaurants. “Not very well,” Mark admits, looking away as he reaches for a can of beer.

“Yup,” Jackson quips, making a popping sound with his lips as he emphasises the “p”. “So why stop now?”

 

It’s a mistake. Mark shouldn’t have drank.

Mark can hold his alcohol quite well among his friends, but that’s if he doesn’t mix it in large amounts. Jackson brought out the whisky sometime during the evening, and Mark’s on his third glass of wine now as he lazily leans back into the couch to watch the terrible reality show that’s playing on the television.

The thing about Mark is that he never truly knows whenever he’s reached his limit with alcohol. There aren’t any clear cut signs that he’s drunk, so he hasn’t figured out what type of stereotypical drunk he is. It’s not the most convenient whenever he tells his friends to cut him off at bars because no one really realises that he’s drunk until it’s time to go home.

Jackson looks perfectly content as he sits next to him, sipping whisky with his eyes trained on the TV screen. “This is so bad,” Jackson points out when the advertisement break comes on to interrupt the show.

Mark nods, agreeing wholeheartedly. How did they end up watching something so horrible? “Do you have any channels that show sharks? Great whites, hammerheads, whatever, just sharks,” Mark mutters, looking around for the remote control to change the channel.

Jackson has an amused look on his face as he reaches for the remote. “Check for yourself,” he says, holding it out to Mark. His gaze lingers on Mark’s face for a bit longer than necessary, probably to inspect if Mark looks flushed from the alcohol.

“I’m perfectly fine,” Mark announces even without Jackson having to ask. He downs the rest of his wine and puts the glass on the table, grinning at Jackson after. He takes the remote control from Jackson, immediately pressing the buttons to find Animal Planet.

There’s no guarantee that the channel will be broadcasting anything related to sharks, of course, but Mark’s willing to take his chances. There’s something interesting about sharks. Mark has been meaning to watch a few documentaries about them during the break, but he hasn’t found the time to do it yet.

Mark can feel Jackson’s eyes still on him. “What?” he asks, just as the TV screen flickers to a channel that’s showing a thriller movie.

“I think you might be tipsy,” Jackson gently supplies. “Maybe not drunk, but definitely tipsy.”

It’s dark in the room because Jackson dimmed the lights after they finished their dinner so they could watch that terrible show from before “with an atmosphere.” In the darkness, Jackson’s face is illuminated only by the light coming from the television, and Mark can’t help but think that he has a really nice face.

Jackson has these large eyes that are impossibly round. His nose is a really pretty shape, too. Then there’s that lazy cat-like smile hanging on the edge of his lips.

Mark even forgets to argue that he’s not tipsy or drunk, or even mildly affected by the alcohol, because he’s too distracted by the fact that Jackson _really_ suits blond hair. His thoughts are going off on a tangent right now, expanding and elaborating only on the single notion that Jackson is very attractive. If he didn’t meet Jackson under these circumstances, Mark wonders if they could be something more.

Jackson’s slim fingers are still wrapped around his glass of whisky. He gulps down the last bit of it, tilting his head back as he swallows the liquor. “You’re staring,” Jackson says with his lips pressed lightly against the edge of the glass.

“No,” Mark denies, still blatantly gawking at him.

There’s a breathy chuckle that escapes Jackson’s mouth as he sets his glass aside. “Do you want to know something?” he asks, glimpsing at the TV screen just as the killer is about to attack the main protagonist. “I think you’re really pretty, too.”

“Pretty? Who said anything about being pretty?”

“I don’t know if you heard yourself, but you just said that I was pretty a minute ago.”

Mark laughs, and it’s boisterous and loud. His own laughter sounds foreign to his ears. “I did not.”

It’s difficult to pinpoint what happens next, because Mark finds himself moving closer towards Jackson on the couch. There’s something about the way the lighting from the television hits Jackson’s hair. Mark wants to know if it’s as soft as it looks. He unconsciously reaches his hand towards Jackson, his fingertips brushing against the blond locks.

Jackson lets him touch it. Mark’s fingers are running through Jackson’s hair lightly, and he isn’t even bothered about how close their faces actually are. He avoids looking at Jackson’s eyes, though, focusing on his task at hand as he combs his fingers through the strands. Jackson’s hair is a bit dry, probably from all the bleach. Platinum blond locks definitely come with a price.

“Hey,” Jackson whispers, and Mark feels his breath ghost on the side of his cheek. “Mark.”

It takes Mark a moment before he registers that Jackson is talking to him. Mark stops his fingers, resting the palm of his hand on Jackson’s head. “Hmm?” he hums, finally meeting Jackson’s gaze.

There’s something inexplicable about the way Jackson is looking at him. Mark doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol clouding his inhibitions, or if he’s just bad at interpreting the situation when it comes to Jackson. Mark suddenly feels conscious over how little personal space he currently has. There’s barely any distance between them.

Jackson blinks slowly. Mark sees him swallow before he begins to speak. “I might be taking this the wrong way,” Jackson begins, his voice soft and low. “But can I kiss you?”

“Huh,” Mark mutters, and it’s more of a filler in the conversation than an actual questioning remark. He thinks he sensed hesitance in Jackson’s voice, but there’s nothing but steely confidence reflected in his eyes.

“Yeah?” Jackson asks once more, breathily.

There are a million reasons for Mark to say no, but judging by the way he feels his own heart threaten to beat out of his chest, he knows that he wants to say yes. “Yeah,” Mark agrees, his hand that was previously in Jackson’s hair sliding down to the nape of his neck.

Jackson initiates the kiss, tilting his head up so his lips meet with Mark’s gingerly. He uses a hand to cup the side of Mark’s face, his fingers grazing the edge of Mark’s jaw as their lips move together slowly.

Mark lets his eyes flutter close, wanting to solely focus on the feeling of Jackson’s lips against his.

Although he feels his heartbeat hammering out of control, the pressure Mark wants from this kiss isn’t fully present. And if Mark is going to do this, he’s going to do it right. He doesn’t know where he plucks the courage from, but he tangles his fingers in the hair on the back of Jackson’s head, bringing Jackson even closer to him forcefully.

It’s a green light for Jackson to up the intensity, and Jackson takes the hint without argument.

Jackson’s movements are deliberate as he circles an arm around Mark’s back for support as he presses his chest against Mark’s so that Mark is eventually pinned down under him on the couch. He still has a hand around Mark’s face all the while, guiding Mark’s lips back onto his every time they separate.

Mark prefers to keep quiet during these encounters, but when Jackson intentionally grinds a knee against Mark’s groin, a moan slips past his lips into Jackson’s mouth.

It’s difficult not to get caught in the heat of the moment, especially when they break apart from the kiss, and Jackson is looking down at him like _that_. Jackson’s chest is heaving, his pupils dilated, his lips plump and coloured.

Mark is about to pull Jackson back down by the collar of his shirt when—

“Your phone,” Jackson says, detaching himself from Mark by sitting up. He’s settled in between Mark’s legs.

Mark is dazed, but he obediently reaches to pull his phone out from the back pocket of his jeans, the ringing tone and the vibrations cutting through the tension from earlier. _Jinyoung_. Mark wants to curse, but he answers the call anyway. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” Jinyoung asks, his voice clipped.

“I’m…” Mark sneaks a glance at Jackson, who is looking at him amusedly. “I’m with Jackson.”

“Oh my God,” Jinyoung exclaims, and Mark winces at the sudden increase in volume. “Did I interrupt something?”

Mark is acutely aware of what he has just done when he hears Jinyoung’s words. “No,” he lies. “I’ll be back soon.” Mark hangs up immediately, mortified because his alcohol-induced actions are finally settling in.

It’s unfair to blame it solely on drinking, though, because God knows that this wouldn’t have happened if Mark wasn’t attracted to Jackson in the first place. If anything, it’s Jackson’s fault for being… well, attractive.

Mark distances himself from Jackson, getting up from his position on the couch in a swift motion. He has to get out of here. He was going to do something he would’ve regretted in the morning. It’s best to nip this at the bud so it doesn’t get out of hand. “I have to go,” Mark says, smoothing out his t-shirt as he clears his throat awkwardly.

“Really?”

He avoids looking at Jackson as he walks towards the door. “Thanks for having me over,” Mark is talking on autopilot now. “It’s been great. I’m going to go. I’ll see you tomorrow. Or the day after. When I next have to see you, whatever.”

It’s a struggle to put his shoes back on, and he just slips his feet into the shoes without caring that he’s stepping on the backs of them.

When he reaches to open the door, he feels Jackson come up behind him.

“Did I do something wrong?” Jackson asks, genuinely curious. The poor guy looks confused.

“I’m…” Mark can’t find the words. “ _The kids._ ”

“Okay,” Jackson drawls, blankly holding the door open for Mark. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. I’ll text you.”

That is that, because Mark rushes out the door before he can say or do something stupid. He’ll pretend this never happened as long as Jackson can play along. It won’t be difficult. They didn’t do any permanent damage yet. This friendship is still salvageable.

 

As Mark collapses onto his own bed that night, ignoring Jinyoung’s prods for gossip, he continues lulling himself into a false sense of security with the same idea.

He can still work with Jackson. Nothing will change.

They’re still friends. Sort of.

Friends can drunkenly make out and that’s okay.

 

* * *

 

Mark realises that he was overdramatising the entire ordeal when he wakes up in the, frankly, late afternoon. He lies in bed for awhile, soaking in the harsh rays of the sun that are peaking through his unclosed blinds. It’s a nice summer day, and he’s not going to spend it wallowing in his misery in the form of a hangover.

He’s not even _that_ hungover. A mild migraine has never stopped Mark Tuan.

“You’re up early,” Jaebum remarks, leaning against the kitchen counter when Mark walks in for a cup of coffee.

“What are you doing here?” Mark retorts. “It’s a Saturday. I’m supposed to be off duty from human interaction today.”

Jaebum has an expression of bemusement on his face, his eyebrows are sternly knit together and his lips pursed tight. It’s not a very welcoming, “good morning, Mark” kind of look. “You have a session at 5 today, don’t you?”

Mark shrugs. “I don’t know, Jackson hasn’t said anything to me yet.” He pours himself a mug of the coffee Jaebum brewed earlier, internally groaning when the temperature of it feels lukewarm at most.

“He told me to tell you because you weren’t replying to his texts.”

“I just woke up.”

Jaebum continues to visibly judge Mark’s every move as Mark gulps down his coffee. Jaebum is always judging Mark so he shouldn’t be surprised, in all honesty, but the intensity of Jaebum’s judgement today is especially strong. “He also said that you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“No, I’ll go.”

“Did something happen between the both of you?” Jaebum asks, and it sounds so cliché and immature.

They’re not in high school and this isn’t a typical teen movie. “Everything’s fine,” Mark responds with the same false confidence that he decided to embrace when he woke up. “I’ll go talk to him right now. I just need to take a shower.”

“Work at 5,” Jaebum reminds him, and Mark only pushes his used mug into his hands. “And can’t you do your own dishes?”

“I’m running late,” Mark lies, knowing that it’s only 3pm at the latest. He doesn’t stay around long enough to wait for Jaebum’s reply, quickly padding out of the kitchen towards the bathroom.

He’ll send Jackson a text message later.

 

Mark types up a quick message and sends it to Jackson right before he leaves the apartment. As he’s putting on his slippers, he watches as Jaebum sticks his hand into a big bag of potato chips while watching the news on the television. “Making yourself comfortable, aren’t you?” Mark observes.

Jaebum waves him away with his fingers dirty from the seasoning of the snacks. “Jinyoung said I could have them,” he replies defiantly. “Also, I’ve heard that Jackson is your type?”

“Did you talk to Jinyoung while I was in the shower?”

Jaebum uses his clean hand to lift up his phone, showing Jinyoung’s face on the screen on FaceTime. “Nope, we’re still talking.”

Jinyoung has an obnoxious smile plastered on his face as he waves at Mark. The only consolation that Mark gets from the shit-eating grin Jinyoung is giving him is the fact that Jinyoung looks less annoying when he has his barista apron on. “Hey, bestie!” Jinyoung shouts.

“You shouldn’t be doing this at work,” Mark states, already turning to leave. He’s going to escape before Jaebum and Jinyoung team up to gouge the story of last night out of his dead body. “I’m going.”

There’s a sputter of noise that comes from Jaebum’s phone as Jinyoung complains, but Jaebum lowers the volume so that his words are inaudible. “Jackson’s a real specimen,” Jaebum exclaims, just as Mark is about to walk out the front door. “The both of you better not do things I wouldn’t do.”

Mark turns back to roll his eyes at Jaebum, letting the door slam behind him after he’s made his point.

 

* * *

 

They don’t talk about it. Or, at least, they don’t get a chance to talk about it. Mark makes a scene of rushing every time he steps into the country club, and he avoids being cooped up in the locker room with only Jackson as much as he can. The classes go on as usual because the children are innocent and Mark doesn’t believe in letting his personal issues interfere with his work.

In fact, Mark starts making genuine connections with the kids because he’s so hell-bent on only looking at them and nowhere else. Not interacting with Jackson is doing wonders for his job.

It’s an easy game to steer clear of Jackson but it’s not as easy when Jackson fights back.

After three sessions of Mark saying “I have to be somewhere else _right now_ ” directly after the last of the kids leave as a goodbye, Jackson finally cracks and actually tails him into the locker room. Mark was planning to grab his stuff and run like the wind, but that isn’t a feasible option unless he wants to a) look like a complete dork, and b) be a rude asshole.

“Are you avoiding me?” Jackson asks the question Mark has been fearful of hearing.

Mark opens his locker slowly, trying to make it seem like he’s calm and composed as he prepares himself to lie. “No,” he says, meeting Jackson’s eyes as he turns to look at him. “Why would you say that?”

Jackson has his arms crossed as he leans against the lockers, and it doesn’t help that he’s still shirtless and in his swimming trunks. His skin is glistening under the white industrial lights of the room, and Mark bites down on his bottom lip to keep from grumbling to the skies about his rotten luck.

“Look,” Mark starts, rummaging for a clean change of clothes from his backpack. “It’s not what it looks like. I’m actually rushing for time, can we talk about this later?”

Jackson shrugs. “I don’t know, Mark. Can we?” he replies, sarcasm rolling off his tongue.

It’s difficult not to sigh out loud. Mark isn’t a person who handles confrontation well. The last time Mark was cornered like this was at the end of high school when he fell out with one of his friends, and Mark dealt with the issue just like any other mature adult would.

He moved halfway across the globe so he wouldn’t have to see that particular person again. Simple as that.

“Well, what do you want me to say?” Mark retorts, noting how Jackson’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Okay, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, then.” There’s a look that resembles hurt flashing across Jackson’s face as he straightens himself up, angling himself away from Mark.

Mark realises that in an effort to not come off as an absolute ass wipe, he just successfully made himself seem like one. “Jackson,” he calls, reaching out to stop Jackson from walking away. “That’s not it.”

“Then what is it?”

“What are you thinking right now?”

Jackson turns around, his gaze falling onto Mark’s grip around his arm. “I don’t know,” Jackson answers. “I don’t know why it bothers me that you don’t want to talk about what happened. It just leaves a bad taste in my mouth, you know?”

Mark swallows thickly, attempting to find the right words to say. “I don’t know how you’ll take this, but if you’re thinking it’s because I don’t find you attractive, you’re wrong.” It sounds weird to Mark’s ears, but Jackson blinks up at him with interest. “I don’t know how to face this because you’re cute, and I have to continue working with you. I don’t know how that’s going to work out.”

“I’m not making it a big deal, you’re the one who started this,” Jackson argues, but he has a small smile on the edge of his lips. “It doesn’t have to be anything more than what it is on the surface.”

“What… what does that mean?” Mark splutters, letting go of Jackson’s arm.

“I’m saying that I find you good looking too, and that there’s no need to complicate things at all.”

The gears in Mark’s head are turning a million miles a second, and yet he still doesn’t know how he should take Jackson’s words. “What are you implying?” Mark questions. He’s standing in the middle of the locker room, his clothes damp from just getting out of the pool earlier.

The sheer inconvenience of his state of person is complicating the ability of his brain to comprehend whatever Jackson is trying to say.

Jackson shrugs, and he makes it seem like the smallest non-problem in the world. He takes a step closer towards Mark, and that’s when Mark’s nerves kick in.

Mark takes a step back, but Jackson follows with another step forward.

“We can pick up where we left off,” Jackson suggests, and he’s taking advantage of Mark’s halt in movement to close up the distance between the both of them further. “It doesn’t have to be any more complex than this.”

Mark is wary of how anyone could just walk in on them right now, especially since this isn’t a locker room exclusively for the both of them. It’s for the staff, meaning almost every other person out there on this faithful Thursday evening. _Anyone_ could walk in here and see them.

Jackson has Mark pressed against the lockers, his arms caging Mark into position. Jackson’s eyes are fixated on Mark’s now — the look in his eyes dark and challenging.

“Jackson,” Mark whispers as he lightly pushes at Jackson’s chest as a form of halfhearted protest. This isn’t bad, really. Mark’s only concern is how they’re technically in public.

“What?” Jackson says back, and his lips are right in front of Mark’s now, the tip of Jackson’s nose brushing against Mark’s cheek as he speaks.

Mark is hesitant, but he brings his hands up to Jackson’s shoulders as he contemplates his next move. “If we do this… nothing changes, yeah?”

There’s a smirk on Jackson’s lips as he leans forward to whisper into Mark’s ear. “Yeah.”

Mark shuts his eyes as he feels Jackson’s lips nip at the skin on the side of his face. Jackson leaves light kisses all down to his jaw before slowly making his way to claim Mark’s lips. Mark lets his hands find their way to the sides of Jackson’s neck, pulling Jackson’s face closer as the kiss deepens.

The kiss is rushed and heated, and Jackson isn’t shy to close up any space between their bodies, pressing himself up against Mark. Jackson’s body is warm, and so are his hands as they grab Mark at the waist, Jackson’s fingers pressing hard into the skin.

Jackson smells like chlorine, but there’s a faint scent of his cologne that is mixed with it.

Jackson breaks their kiss for a second, using a finger to tug at the waistband of Mark’s shorts. “Is this okay?” he asks, and he strokes Mark’s pelvis with his thumb.

Mark meekly nods, letting his hands fall to Jackson’s chest as he steadies himself. They kiss again, and Jackson’s hand creeps under the tight fabric of Mark’s swim shorts. Mark gasps a bit when he feels his crotch get exposed to the cold air of the room. Mark strains uncomfortably against the material of his shorts, but Jackson’s hand soon wanders low enough to the area of his groin.

Jackson wraps his fingers around Mark’s cock, his thumb circling around the slit, making Mark hiss against his lips. He smirks when Mark’s eyes flutter open in surprise. “Does that feel good?” Jackson asks, rubbing the pre-cum across the tip of Mark’s cock.

“People are going to walk in,” Mark says, his hands weakly grasping at Jackson’s wrist that’s buried in his shorts.

Jackson takes his hand out, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t worry, they won’t see anything.” Jackson smirks, and the look in his eyes makes Mark feel like he’s looking right through him. Jackson spits into his hand before sticking it right back into Mark’s shorts.

“Jackson.”

Jackson starts stroking Mark’s cock, his palm feeling slightly calloused even with the lubrication from his saliva. He moves his hand up and down the shaft of Mark’s dick, and Mark lets a low moan escape his lips when Jackson grazes his teeth against the skin of Mark’s collarbone in the midst of peppering light kisses on his neck.

“No biting,” Mark whimpers, wincing from the sensory overload. Mark grabs a handful of Jackson’s hair, connecting their lips once more as Jackson continues jacking him off with rhythmic strokes.

Jackson’s flicks his wrist every now and then, and Mark gasps lightly every time he does.

It doesn’t take long before Mark is coming over Jackson’s fingers in spurts, his mouth falling slightly agape as he rides the brief high, bucking his hips into Jackson’s hand one last time.

Jackson chuckles lowly, his fingers still wrapped firmly around Mark’s cock as he milks it until Mark goes limp in his hold. He doesn’t let go quite yet, but he leans back a bit to admire the look on Mark’s face, which scandalises Mark when he comes back to his senses. “Do you still have to leave?” Jackson is teasing.

“Yes,” Mark grabs Jackson’s wrist, taking it out of his shorts. “But I have to return the favour.” Mark can see the bulge in Jackson’s swimming trunks, and he gently massages it with the palm of his hand.

Jackson shrugs, wiping his fingers covered in Mark’s come on Mark’s t-shirt. “Next time,” Jackson states, pushing Mark away lightly. “Wasn’t someone afraid of getting caught?”

Mark sighs, still panting slightly. “Next time?”

“It’s not going to change anything whether we do this once or twice,” Jackson reasons, walking over towards the showers. “Anyway, you have somewhere to be.”

He leaves Mark in front of the lockers to process what just happened. Mark looks down at his soiled shorts, exhaling a deep breath through his nose as he shuts his eyes tight.

He was wrong to think that getting this job was the start to his summer adventures. _This_ — whatever _this_ is — is the beginning of a very eventful summer.

 

* * *

 

Nothing really changes after that encounter. Not at first. Mark doesn’t see Jackson differently after it. The sloppy handjob in the locker room that day only reaffirmed Mark’s superficial attraction for him, which was never anything new.

Jackson doesn’t initiate anything after that although he makes the passing joke about Mark owing him something every now and then. Mark, in full disclosure, wants to feel Jackson’s hands on him once more, but he doesn’t cave in to ask. He’d come off as desperate, and what with the rumours about Jackson’s promiscuity, Mark is probably one of his many lays on a roster. Mark’s not the type to make the first move anyway.

It’s nice not having to run away directly after work now. Mark takes his time to wave as he watches the children leave, instead of rushing off once he sees their parents approach the pool from the horizon.

A week after their episode in the locker room, Jackson finally invites Mark to his apartment sheepishly. “Nothing weird,” he promises. “Just friends having a friendly gathering at a friend’s place.”

Mark agrees to go, even though there is a suspicious amount of emphasis on the word “friend” in Jackson’s invitation. He can’t be sure if it was intentional. Mark lets Jinyoung know before they arrive at Jackson’s place to prevent him from calling in the middle of something just like the last time.

“Do you want to have _ramyeon_?” Jackson asks, rummaging through the cupboards in his kitchen as Mark rests his hip against the kitchen counter.

“Are you using the Korean euphemism for ‘Netflix and chill’ or are you actually offering me _ramyeon_?”

Jackson gasps in mock horror. “Get your mind out of the gutter,” he replies, pulling out a couple of packs of instant noodles with a grin on his face. “I don’t like the spicy kind, so you’ll have to make do with whatever I serve you.”

Mark picks up the pack of _ramyeon_ to read the label, but it’s the generic Shin brand that’s spicy. The only flavours of instant noodles that wouldn’t be spicy would be those with clear soup, usually chicken-flavoured noodles served to young children. Mark can’t recall the last time he had _ramyeon_ that wasn’t covered in red broth.

“I usually put less of the seasoning packets,” Jackson admits. “It makes the soup less spicy.”

“That’s disgusting.”

Jackson shrugs noncommittally. “I have a problem, and I’m glad that you’re very accepting of that.”

 

They don’t do anything that night.

Jackson asks Mark to stay over because it ends up being close to 11pm by the time they finish eating and watching not one, but two, of the Die Hard movies on the television. It really is an average day for two platonic friends. No cuddling, no making out, no direct physical contact, for that matter. They sit on separate ends of the couch, and Mark has his legs splayed over the empty seat between them whilst Jackson has his legs propped on the coffee table.

Jackson offers Mark his bed and as Mark opens his mouth to argue that he can’t let Jackson sleep on the couch, Jackson holds up his index finger to shush him. “It's a king,” he deadpans, referring to his double bed. “It can fit two people.”

Mark stares at him for a moment, trying to gauge if he’s suggesting something, but no, Jackson is just stating facts. “Okay,” Mark has no choice but to say.

“I'll get you a change of clothes,” Jackson exclaims, standing up to walk into his bedroom down the hallway. “Turn off the TV and come on.”

Mark is taken aback at how casual this entire exchange is, but he follows Jackson’s lead and does as he’s told.

Jackson passes Mark a baggy, worn out t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He even asks if Mark would prefer to sleep in a pair of boxers instead, which Mark shakes his head violently to reject. “You look horrified,” Jackson points out, laughing. “You don’t sleep in your underwear?”

“I do, but not with company,” Mark retorts, giving Jackson an expression of bewilderment.

“ _Not with company_. Wow, mysterious.”

“I’ll rephrase. Not when someone else is in the room. Better?”

Jackson chuckles, taking off his shirt to put on a black tank top. “Just to put this out there before you say that I’m selfish, I like sleeping in the nude but I’m putting on clothes just for your sake. You’re welcome.”

Mark rolls his eyes. “You can sleep in whatever you want, I personally don’t feel comfortable with it but I don’t care if you do it.”

Jackson collapses on the bed after he’s done changing, and he gestures towards the bathroom with his hand, watching as Mark hovers in the corner of his room. “You can go change there if you want,” he says, his eyes already closed. “And grab yourself a toothbrush from the cupboard.”

“Aren’t you going to wash up?”

“Too lazy,” Jackson replies.

Mark makes his way to the bathroom to clean up and change into his makeshift pyjamas, and by the time he’s done he returns to see Jackson fast asleep on the covers, his body angled sideways so he’s facing the middle of the bed. Mark crawls into bed, trying to get under the covers as gently as possible so he doesn’t wake Jackson up.

He turns away from Jackson, settling himself into his spot on the bed.

This could potentially be weird if they make it weird, but as long as Mark doesn’t look into it too much, there shouldn’t be any glaring problems with this situation.

Everything is fine. Mark falls asleep so quickly that he doesn’t really mind the weight of Jackson’s arm on his waist when he reaches for it in his sleep.

Everything is fine.

 

* * *

 

Mark awakens to the sound of Jackson grunting on the ground next to the bed. “What are you doing?” Mark asks groggily, rubbing at his eyes as he sits up to locate Jackson.

Jackson is shirtless and only in his boxers, and Mark suddenly snaps wide awake when that fact registers in his head. “98… 99… 100,” Jackson counts, then his chest hits the floor and he flops his arms out wide as he collapses. “Pushups. Morning routine.”

“Why are you doing this _here_?” Mark questions, perplexed. “And where’s your shirt?”

Jackson is taking shallow breaths and he stands up to approach the edge of the bed where Mark is still lying. “Over there,” he gestures with his head towards the forgotten item of clothing hanging on the armchair. “And to answer your first question, I wanted to impress you first thing in the morning. Because I kind of need something you owe me.”

“Something I owe you?” Mark repeats, sighing.

“Okay, maybe not on those terms, but,” Jackson pauses. “I want something that you promised me? Does that make me sound like less of a douchebag?”

Mark nods, and it’s honestly too early to think about _that_. “I'll wash up and we’ll see how I feel. Did you brush your teeth yet?”

Jackson bares his teeth for Mark to inspect. “Yup.”

Mark takes in a deep breath, leaving the warm confines of the bed to approach the bathroom.

It’s going to happen again. Well, it’s not the worst thing that could happen in the morning. Jinyoung once attempted to get Mark out of bed by throwing ice cubes at him, so waking up to Jackson asking for a favour is leaps and bounds less annoying than that.

Mark purposely takes his time in the bathroom, trying to drag this out for as long as possible. What does Jackson even want? He didn’t specify what he was expecting from Mark earlier. Mark purses his lips after he’s done brushing, looking in the mirror in hopes of getting an answer.

“Mark,” Jackson calls from the bedroom. “Are you done yet?”

“Coming,” Mark replies, cleaning up. He pads into the bedroom after, throwing the face towel Jackson gave him on the armchair. “You’re so push—”

Mark promptly shuts up, stopping in his tracks when he sees Jackson.

Jackson is lying in bed on the messy covers, cock in hand as he lazily strokes himself. His boxers are only pulled down slightly, so they sit on his thighs as he touches himself halfheartedly. “Care to give me a hand?” Jackson asks, stretching his free arm behind him so he can lean back on his forearm.

Mark feels like a gaping goldfish in a tank. “Are you for real?” he exclaims, sighing. “Do you do this a lot?”

“Do what a lot?”

“I don’t know… whip your dick out while your friends are in the toilet, maybe?”

Jackson chuckles, letting go of his cock. “Are you going to help me out or not?”

After eyeing Jackson for another three seconds, Mark finally complies. “Only if you ask nicely,” Mark says, getting into bed next to Jackson. He lies belly down, looking up at him.

“Please touch my dick, daddy.” Jackson starts laughing after, and the atmosphere is so casual that it makes Mark wonder if they’re actually planning to do anything sexual. “Sorry, just messing,” Jackson says after he composes himself. “Help me get off, please.”

Mark sighs, fighting the urge to start laughing as well. “Do you want a hand or…” he trails off, letting his question go open-ended.

Jackson gets the hint. “Whatever you want.”

Mark looks back down at Jackson’s cock right in front of his face, half-hard as it rests on Jackson’s abdomen. He reaches out with a hand, wrapping his fingers around the shaft to pull back the foreskin. He tugs at Jackson’s cock a few times, making Jackson groan.

“Dry,” Jackson whispers, his eyes shut tight.

“Shhh.” Mark moves his face closer to Jackson’s cock, sticking his tongue out to lap at the head. “Better?”

Mark peeks up at Jackson to see him nodding as he opens his eyes, their gazes meeting as Mark wraps his lips around the head of Jackson’s cock. He sucks on it a few times, all the while looking at Jackson, and he can see the way Jackson’s eyes darken as his dick becomes stiffer in Mark’s hand.

Jackson is surprisingly quiet. He only makes the odd noise here and there as Mark continues teasing at the head of his cock. He hisses when Mark grazes the tip with his front teeth. “No teeth,” he commands softly. “Your teeth are too sharp.”

Mark comes back up, smirking. “I'll do what I want,” he says. He spits onto Jackson’s cock without asking for lube, massaging the spit over it as he continues to pump at Jackson’s dick slowly.

As he wraps his lips around Jackson’s cock again, he makes sure to take in more this time. Mark has a sensitive gag reflex, so he goes slowly as he tries to take more and more of Jackson into his mouth. He offsets the lag of his mouth by pumping at the base of Jackson’s cock.

Jackson's fingers find their way into Mark’s hair as he holds Mark’s head over his dick. “Can you take more?” he asks, and when Mark swallows over his cock as an effort to take more of him, he smirks in approval. “Good boy.”

Jackson soon hits the back of Mark’s throat, and Mark focuses on breathing through his nose to alleviate his instinct to gag. Mark bobs his head up and down Jackson’s cock a few times, all the while locking eyes with Jackson. Jackson yelps in surprise when Mark's teeth graze at the underside of his cock as Mark pulls up slowly, and Mark hums as he releases the head with a pop.

“I said no teeth,” Jackson states, but he has a lazy grin on his face so Mark knows that he isn’t angry.

There’s a soreness around Mark’s mouth and throat as he swallows the saliva pooling in his mouth. “Shut up,” he snaps at Jackson, his hand still working around his dick. “You want to try fucking my face?”

The question surprises Jackson, but he nods after awhile. “You sure?” Jackson asks, but Mark is already working at it.

Mark licks around Jackson’s length, his tongue lapping at the base of Jackson’s cock as he strokes him with one hand. He drags his movements out slowly, wanting to tease Jackson for as long as he can.

Jackson’s eyes are locked on his as he peppers light kisses on his balls. Jackson reaches out to comb strands of Mark’s fringe away from his face, his gaze soft as his mouth falls slightly agape when Mark tugs at his cock suddenly.

After awhile of licking, Mark finally takes Jackson’s cock in his mouth again, and this time he rests one hand on Jackson’s abdomen to let him know that he’s not ready yet. When Mark finally feels Jackson’s cock hit the back of his throat, he steadies his breathing, focusing on exhaling through his nose to the best of his ability. He looks up at Jackson to hum an affirmative.

Jackson wordlessly buries his fingers in Mark’s hair once more, thrusting his hips into Mark’s mouth slowly.

Mark notices how Jackson tries to hold back. Jackson’s expression is tense, and he doesn’t make eye contact with Mark as he fully focuses on watching his cock in Mark’s mouth.

There are tears pooling around the edges of Mark’s eyes as his lips stretch to accommodate the base of Jackson’s cock. He lets Jackson fuck into his throat a few more times before Jackson pulls on his hair to guide his head away, subsequently stroking himself to his orgasm.

Mark pants, watching as Jackson comes over his abdomen, painting the skin with white streaks. He rubs at his eyes with the back of his wrist, peeking at Jackson through the hair of his fringe.

Jackson is equally as breathless, his eyes are glossy as he basks in his orgasm.

There’s a dull ache at the back of his throat, and Mark’s own cock is throbbing painfully in his sweatpants as he attempts to catch his breath. “Was that good enough?” he asks Jackson, his voice raspy.

Jackson smiles in contentment, beckoning him over with a finger. “Come here, I’ll show you if it was good enough.”

 

* * *

 

Mark and Jackson start helping each other “let off steam” more regularly after this. It tethers on the edge of being taboo, because they don’t discuss whatever it is that they’re doing, and they’re careful to keep it under the covers so no one else finds out. It’s unlikely that anyone would figure it out anyway, because they’re the textbook example of normal friends when they don’t have their hands stuffed down each other’s pants.

Mark is certain that they’re “friends with benefits” at this point, regardless of how much he hates the phrase. There’s really no other way to explain what their relationship is.

Mark currently has one hand in Jackson’s hair as Jackson works his tongue around Mark’s cock, and there’s actually no way to describe this feeling. Mark’s free hand is resting on his abdomen, and he’s watching as Jackson licks down his member, expertly teasing at the large vein running on the underside of his cock.

It’s sort of like an out-of-body experience. Mark feels like he’s removed from the entire situation because it just doesn’t seem like real life. One minute he’s laughing at Jackson when a child kicks him in the face at the pool, and the next minute Jackson has his hands wrapped around Mark’s cock as he sucks him off.

When Mark is coming close to his orgasm, he feels the familiar tightening on the inside of his abdomen. He tugs at Jackson’s hair, coaxing him away. “I’m close,” Mark says, his free hand moving to take hold of his cock so he can finish himself off.

Jackson swats his hand away, looking at him in the eyes. He doesn’t say anything because he still has a mouthful of Mark, but Mark deduces that he wants him to come in his mouth.

It surprises Mark, but he lets Jackson continue anyway. With one last bob of Jackson’s head, Mark ejaculates down his throat, and Jackson only hums in satisfaction as he pulls back.

A bit of come and saliva drips out of the edge of Jackson’s lips when he looks up, and he wipes at it with the back of his hand. “Somebody hasn’t been eating his fruits,” Jackson comments with a smirk.

“Did you swallow?” Mark asks, slowly tucking himself back into his boxers. “Really, Jackson? Why’d you do that?”

“I was curious what you’d taste like. Aren’t you curious about me, too?”

Mark laughs, getting off the bed to put on his jeans that were thrown aside earlier. “Are you trying to tell me to swallow?” After he’s dressed, he gestures towards Jackson’s crotch. “Do you want me to help with that?”

The crotch of Jackson’s sweatpants are visibly tented, but Jackson only waves him away lazily. “I’m too tired now, maybe next time.”

Mark checks the time on his phone, and it shows 8.49pm. He’s only been at Jackson’s apartment for awhile before Jackson started feeling him up, then proceeding to offer him a blowjob. It’s still early, but it’s not conventional for Mark to stay long after they’ve had their fill.

It’s a stupid, but necessary (in Mark’s opinion), rule that Mark implemented for himself ever since they started doing whatever they’re doing. They don’t hold hands and cuddle for obvious reasons, the most important reason being that they aren’t lovers. They kiss, but only when it’s a foundation for what is to follow. Every bit of physical contact has to be justified in Mark’s books.

To avoid making the mistake of misinterpreting what it is they do, there’s an unsaid condition that they have to part ways when they’re finished with each other. At least, Mark leaves after. He doesn’t talk to Jackson about these terms that he’s written for himself in his head because they already sound ridiculous to him, so they might sound even worse to Jackson.

However, as long as he sticks to this, Mark is sure he won’t be led astray on this crooked path. Everything will be just fine if he’s constantly aware that there isn’t anything more to this than just sex.

“I’ll be going, then,” Mark says, pocketing his phone.

Jackson is lying on the bed with his arm covering the top half of his face. He grunts in response. “You don’t want to stay over tonight?” he asks, but Mark can’t read his expression because he can’t see his face.

“No, I have to go.”

Jackson smacks his lips together, pushing himself up to a sitting position with both hands. “You’re sure about that?”

Mark’s eyes flicker to the thick duvet on Jackson’s bed, warm and inviting. It’s a comfortable bed, but Mark can’t let himself get used to it. “What?” he retorts, making his way to the doorway of Jackson’s bedroom. “Are you expecting me to cuddle you until you fall asleep in my arms?”

“I wouldn’t ask that of you, but if you offered…”

Mark rolls his eyes. He doesn’t know if his sarcasm is lost on Jackson, or if Jackson is playing coy on purpose. Whatever the case is, he’s not going to play along. “I’ll show myself out. Have a good night, Jackson.”

He turns back to see Jackson waving a goodbye lazily. “It’d be a good night if you’d come sleep next to me.”

Mark would be a liar if he said he didn’t consider it. “Night, Jackson,” he says instead, taking large steps towards the front door.

When he gets into the elevator, he presses the button for the ground floor quickly before leaning onto the wall for support.

There’s nothing more to this than what’s on the surface.

 

* * *

 

“How’s the pool thing going?” Yugyeom, Jinyoung’s coworker at the café asks.

It’s been a month and a half since Jinyoung started working here, and it’s astonishing that he still has his job because he can barely do latte art. Mark asked for a leaf on his matcha latte, just to see Jinyoung’s progress with the skill, but Jinyoung served him a cappuccino instead. “To avoid disappointment,” he had said without any remorse.

Mark is sitting on a stool behind the counters with both Jinyoung and Yugyeom, sipping on his coffee slowly when Yugyeom asks him that question. He hasn’t visited them in awhile, so he didn’t expect Yugyeom to remember he was working at the country club. “It’s going well,” he replies, setting his cup down beside the espresso machine.

Jinyoung cocks an eyebrow, flattening out his apron as he watches Mark.

“What?” Mark asks.

“‘It’s going well’ is three words.”

Yugyeom is equally as confused as Mark as he smacks Jinyoung lightly with the table cloth in his hands. “That doesn’t make any sense,” he chides, going back to wipe down the countertop. “How does that even correlate?”

Mark sees Jinyoung’s nostrils flare in annoyance as he glares at Yugyeom. Jinyoung scoffs. “Can you believe this punk?” Jinyoung asks Mark, his fists clenched at his sides like he’s about to tackle Yugyeom to the ground and beat him to pulp. “He’s blatantly disrespecting me.”

“I’m sorry, I was just trying to point out that whatever you said doesn’t make any sense.”

Mark interjects before they make a scene. “I’m getting quite good at interacting with children,” he supplies, gesturing between the two of them. “You guys are exhibit A.”

“Jackson’s really cool, isn’t he?” Yugyeom gushes, moving over to the other corner of the area so he isn’t standing too close to Jinyoung. “He doesn’t act like an elitist even though he’s older than me. Unlike _some people_.”

“Jackson is…” Mark pauses, catching the way Jinyoung raises both his eyebrows now. “Jackson is a good friend, yes.”

Jinyoung schools his expression into something more neutral before resting a hand on Mark’s shoulder, squeezing it softly. “We haven’t talked about Jackson in awhile,” he points out, and Mark ignores the way he starts grinning. “Has he hit on you? I’m curious.”

“Jackson isn’t that type of person,” Yugyeom argues, but when Jinyoung shoots him a pointed look, he abandons his trail of thought. “I mean… he’s flirty, but he’s all talk and no action. He does have an extensive list of exes, but…”

“But, but, _but_ ,” Jinyoung singsongs. “Stop defending your friend, Yugyeom. We’ve heard the rumours. You’re fighting a losing battle, you might as well give it up.”

Mark wants to stop talking about Jackson right now. It’s not the most decent thing to do, particularly because he isn’t disclosing a huge bit of information regarding his relationship with Jackson. He’d rather not listen to anything about Jackson that won’t directly affect him in the near future. He doesn’t think Jackson would appreciate knowing what the gossip mill is churning out about him.

“Can we talk about something else?” Mark interrupts to say, picking up his cappuccino to take a long sip. It’s already lukewarm in his hands.

“Like what? This is the most interesting topic to be brought up in this hole in the wall place since it was first built.”

“ _Jinyoung_.”

“It’s true!”

Mark and Yugyeom share a knowing look before Yugyeom directs the conversation in another direction. “Can you believe it’s mid-July already? I’m going to be in university in about a month. It’s crazy.”

“You’ll find the fact that you even decided to go to college crazier by the time you’re there. Summer will be a distant memory by then. Almost like a fairytale,” Jinyoung mutters, going over to the milk steamer. “I’m going to try to do a bear on a latte. Who wants to drink it after?”

“You can’t even make a basic heart.”

“If you continue talking, Kim Yugyeom, I’m going to spit in the cup and make you drink it.”

 

* * *

 

Mark is someone who considers quite a number of things before he opens his mouth to speak, so most of the things he says are true. The only reason that it’s _most_ and not _all_ is because he’s not immune to telling the odd white lie now and then. However, it still holds true that a huge portion (at least 90%, in Mark’s humble opinion) of the statements that he voices out are his genuine thoughts.

It’s not like him to sugarcoat whatever he’s saying because he’d rather not say anything at all if he has to outright _lie_. That’s just not Mark Tuan.

So when he says that Jackson is a good friend, he means it. Jackson is kind, fun, and friendly. He’s not a difficult person to interact with at all. He always makes sure Mark is at ease whenever they work together, and he takes particular care to ensure Mark is comfortable.

It reflects in how they conduct their swim classes. Jackson was holding the reins in the first couple of weeks, giving Mark pointers and instructions on what to do and how to do them. This slowly evolved as Mark gained experience, because Jackson has been slowly giving Mark autonomy ever since he realised that Mark is more confident around the children now.

Jackson is a good person. Mark doesn’t know what Jackson is like romantically to warrant what has been said about him, but Jackson isn’t a bad friend to have.

Even with their special arrangement at hand, Jackson is always gracious. It’s definitely not the most conventional thing to think about when discussing someone’s good traits, but it’s something Mark definitely appreciates. Of course, what they share is supposedly on the same vein as being friendly, so there’s not much of an argument there.

Mark isn’t going to start jumping to Jackson’s defence whenever Jinyoung brings up something unpleasant he heard about him anyway. It’s not in his place.

“I don’t think you’d have much to say on the topic,” Jinyoung is sitting on the edge of Mark’s bed, eating his microwavable dinner of chicken teriyaki. He chews obnoxiously, and the strong smell of teriyaki sauce has enveloped the room. “But do you think Jackson is dating Bambam?”

“Bambam?” Mark asks, pretending to be indifferent. This conversation is starting to pique his interest. “Yugyeom’s best friend? The other guy you hate at your café?”

Jinyoung nods. “I don’t think you’ve met him, but you’d remember him if you saw him.”

“Why? What does he look like?”

“Tall, lanky, with an overly flashy sense of fashion,” Jinyoung says, offering Mark a bite of his rice, but Mark declines. “He’s pretty bold with what he wears. Leather pants, leopard print, all that jazz.”

Mark purses his lips, carding his fingers through his hair as he lays back onto his bed, his head falling onto a pillow. “Nope, can’t say that I’ve ever seen him.”

Jinyoung shrugs as he finishes up his supper, setting the plastic container on the ground after he’s done. “I don’t know what’s going on, but Bambam hasn’t been hanging out with Yugyeom as often lately and it's supposedly Jackson’s fault. That’s what I’ve been hearing.”

“From who?”

“The both of them,” Jinyoung deadpans. “You know how tiny the café is. I hear everything that happens in there, good and bad.”

Mark dismisses Jinyoung with his hands, signalling the end of this conversation. It's not in Mark’s nature to dabble in mindless gossip. “The smell of food is killing me, can you get the air freshener out? I told you not to eat in my room.”

Jinyoung takes a deep breath. “I’d take the smell of food over that musky cologne you’ve been wearing any day.”

“I don’t wear cologne.”

“Really? But you smell different recently.”

Mark’s blanches, waving Jinyoung away again. “Please leave. It’s getting late, I want to get some sleep.”

Jinyoung picks up his rubbish, sticking his tongue out at Mark as he walks towards the door. “You’ll tell me if you learn something about Jackson and Bambam, right? I can’t wait to stir some shit up with Yugyeom, he’d get so mad.”

“I won’t be telling you anything,” Mark doesn’t promise, flopping over to lie on his belly as he takes his phone out. “Shut the door.”

Jinyoung closes the door as he leaves, but not before wagging his finger at Mark through a small gap of the door as he’s shutting it.

Mark has a few text messages from Jackson, and they’re casual enough. Jackson is just telling him what time they have to meet tomorrow afternoon, followed by a message asking what Mark is up to. Mark responds, telling him that he’s about to go to bed.

Jackson’s reply is almost instant. _This early?_ it reads. _It’s not even 12 yet._

 _Yup_ , Mark types, sending it immediately. _Goodnight_.

Jackson answers with a couple of emojis, then a simple, _Sweet dreams, Mark._

Mark turns his phone off, throwing it aside as he buries his face into his pillow. He doesn’t know why he feels so frustrated suddenly, but he does. He isn’t exhausted per se, but he thinks that a long sleep is what he needs to alleviate all of the irritation that he’s feeling.

It takes him awhile to fall asleep even after he has his eyes shut tight, granted that the lights in his room are still on. He’s too lazy to turn them off, though. There’s a final ding of a notification on his phone, but Mark doesn’t motion to find out if it’s from Jackson.

It wouldn’t matter if it were to be from Jackson anyway.

 

* * *

 

Jackson doesn’t ask anything of Mark for a week, which is the longest they’ve gotten without “helping each other out” since it became a _thing._ Like before, Mark isn’t one for confrontation or initiation, so he doesn’t say anything and opts to wait until Jackson brings it up.

It’s not like they’re not talking. That’s not it. Jackson is still incessantly bubbly during their swim classes, even more so than usual, if Mark were to put it on a scale. They talk, they joke, and they laugh at the children together at the end of the day; they just don’t touch each other. There’s the odd brush of arms here and there as they manoeuvre themselves around in the pool, but there’s no _touching_.

As a mother approaches to pick up her son, the last of the children to leave for the day, Mark lets Jackson talk to her regarding the little boy’s progress in the water. He watches intently as Jackson discusses how he’s opening up a lot more now, and how he hasn’t gotten an asthma attack with all the breathing exercises they’ve been doing. Jackson is ecstatic as he ruffles the boy’s hair, waving at him excitedly as he leaves.

When the children are all finally gone, Jackson turns to look at Mark standing next to him in a inquisitive manner.

“What?” Mark asks, blankly looking back at him. “What is it?”

Jackson doesn’t respond immediately, and only laughs a bit in an embarrassed way. He covers his mouth as he grins widely, looking away from Mark. “It’s nothing,” Jackson tries to lie, but Mark sees right through him. “Okay, fine, there is something.”

Mark raises an eyebrow in question.

“I just realised that the children aren’t the only ones who’ve grown this summer,” Jackson begins, crossing his arms as he meets Mark’s eyes with an intense stare. “You’ve grown, too.”

Mark averts his eyes, looking down at his feet. He sticks a foot into the swimming pool, letting the tip of his toes break the surface of the water as they form ripples. “What are you talking about?” Mark blurts out, unsure of how to take Jackson’s statement.

When he looks back at Jackson tentatively, Jackson’s gaze is gentle. There’s a small smile on Jackson’s face as he continues. “It’s just… You’re better with the kids now, and it’s cute. You’re finally growing into yourself.”

“That’s a weird thing to say to someone older than you.”

“Are you really?”

Mark shrugs. “Jaebum says you keep bugging him about dropping honourifics although he’s rightfully your elder.”

Jackson shakes his head, his expression contorting into one of exaggerated annoyance. “I was born a month and a half after him but he insists holding that against me.” Jackson is laughing now with a slight shake of his shoulders as he hunches over. “Wait, you’re older than Jaebum?”

Mark takes his foot out of the water, clicking his tongue as he does so. “By a year, I think. A few months if you’re being picky.”

“I don’t think it’s fair that Jaebum can rope himself together with people born the year before. That’s so unfair. What’s the point of having the year start with January if that’s not the actual new year that matters?”

Jackson makes conversations flow like it’s effortless, and maybe it is for him. No matter what someone else says or does, Jackson is able to spin it into something interesting as long as he’s in the mood for it. It’s something Mark admires about him greatly.

Mark picks up his phone laying on the lounge chair, making a show of checking the time. “I have to go,” he announces, using his phone to gesture towards the locker room. “You said the next class is the day after tomorrow, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, in the evening, but I’ll text you again to make sure.” Jackson is following right behind him as he walks. “Are you rushing off somewhere?”

“No, it’s just that it’s getting late. Jinyoung’s probably waiting for me,” Mark says, although he knows very well that Jinyoung is closing up the café today and won’t be home until 10pm.

Jackson wolf-whistles. “Ooh, are you going on a date?”

Mark whips his head to balk at Jackson, his feet coming to an abrupt stop immediately at the entrance to the locker room. “What?” he exclaims, unsure of whether this situation is supposed to be funny or downright unbelievable. “Do you even know who Jinyoung is?”

Jackson shrugs. “Your… boyfriend?”

“We do whatever we do and yet you think I have a boyfriend.”

“I don’t know!” Jackson snaps, chuckling after. “It wouldn’t be weird if he were your boyfriend, I mean… polyamory is all the rage these days. Open relationships and all that.”

Mark gawks at Jackson in disbelief. “What made you think that?”

Jackson is still laughing out of embarrassment. “Well, I’ve seen him text and call you a few times and I just assumed…” Jackson trails off, shaking his head. He rests both hands on Mark’s shoulders and spins Mark back around, guiding him into the locker room with firm hands. “So who is Jinyoung anyway? Do you have a crush on him or something?”

Mark lets Jackson push him into the locker room, contemplating what to say next. It’s not complex to explain what Jinyoung is to Mark, he’s Mark’s best friend and they share an apartment. It’s almost painfully simple to tell Jackson who Jinyoung is.

It’s the reaction that Mark wants to get from Jackson that contributes to the complication. There’s a little devil in Mark that wants to insinuate something else just to see if it’ll ruffle Jackson’s feathers.

“I live with Jinyoung,” Mark opts to say as he arrives in front of his locker, taking his things out as he plans to head to the shower for a quick wash before he leaves for home. He’s not sure how Jackson takes that, but it’s not like he cares anyway. (He does.)

Peeking through the periphery of his vision as he digs through his belongings in the locker, Mark notices Jackson is standing still in thought. He wills himself not to bother with what is going through Jackson’s mind.

“I’m going to take a shower before heading home,” Mark breaks the silence, picking up his change of clothing and a travel size bottle of his favourite shampoo. “Are you going to the gym?”

Jackson is shaken out of his reverie, blinking blankly up at Mark before nodding. He takes his gym bag out of the locker compartment, slinging it over his shoulder without putting on a shirt first. “I’ll let you know when we’ll meet next, cool?” Jackson is speaking like it’s a question, but he gives Mark a small salute with two fingers before walking out of the room, not waiting for a reply.

Mark opens his mouth to call out to Jackson, but he promptly closes it after realising he doesn’t have anything to say. The door to the locker room closes with a bang, and Mark walks towards the shower area, trying not to think about Jackson.

 

Mark wonders if how he wanted Jackson to respond to his suggestive response to who Jinyoung is was due to curiosity or jealousy. Or maybe curiosity over whether Jackson would display signs of jealousy? His thought process is a mess. He’s lying on the sofa in the living room, staring up at the ceiling while he waits for Jinyoung to get home.

He doesn’t know who he can talk to about this. There’s no way to discuss whatever he’s feeling without divulging every little detail about his relationship with Jackson. He doesn’t doubt that Jinyoung would be frustrated, maybe even furious, with his decision, especially since Jinyoung’s impression of Jackson isn’t exactly one of the best.

Talking to Jaebum would put him in an awkward position, considering that he knows both Mark _and_ Jackson, so he wouldn’t be able to remove himself from the situation well enough to give good advice.

Mark doesn’t know how long he’s been zoning out, but the sound of keys unlocking the front door to the apartment surprises him, and he jumps up from his position on the couch.

Jinyoung steps in through the door with Jaebum in tow. Jinyoung’s facial expression is one of annoyance, and he’s using both his arms to support the weight of Jaebum leaning against him. Jaebum is still dressed in his work attire. His outfit looks disheveled and creased in multiple places, and he’s slightly red in the face.

Mark goes over to receive Jaebum from Jinyoung’s arms, letting Jaebum lean on his body as he watches Jinyoung toe off his shoes beside the door. “Is Jaebum drunk?” he asks.

“This idiot drank two bottles soju with his colleagues when he knows damn well that he can’t even do more than two beers a night,” Jinyoung grumbles. He approaches Mark in the middle of the living room, sighing as he crosses his arms. Although his words are firm, Mark can tell Jinyoung is worried.

“How did you know where he was?”

Jinyoung takes Jaebum by the shoulders, practically dragging the man down the hallway towards his bedroom as Mark follows behind them. “Apparently,” Jinyoung pauses mid-sentence, but he continues hauling Jaebum into his room. “My contact number is number one on his favourites list.”

Mark watches from the doorway as Jinyoung shove Jaebum onto the bed, moving Jaebum’s legs after to take off his shoes. “That’s nice,” Mark says beyond himself.

There’s a halt in Jinyoung’s movements. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he mutters after awhile as he resumes his action.

Jaebum is content to be dead to world as he sluggishly flops an arm over his face to cover his eyes from the bright overhead lighting. Jinyoung helps to undo his tie, which was already loosened to hang messily over his neck. Jaebum swats Jinyoung’s hands away when Jinyoung moves to unbutton his shirt, rolling over to a side to avoid being disturbed in his sleep.

Jinyoung steps back, then turns to give Mark a thoughtful look. “Mind if I sleep with you tonight?” he asks, sparing one last glance over at Jaebum before turning off the lights as he leaves his room.

“Of course I don’t mind,” Mark replies, all his previous thoughts about Jackson already pushed to the furthest corner of his mind as he sees Jinyoung close the door behind him. “Is something wrong?”

Jinyoung doesn’t respond immediately, and instead heads towards Mark’s room. He rummages through the drawers for a change of clothes. “I don’t know, I’m just confused,” Jinyoung mumbles as he pulls out an old Pink Floyd t-shirt from Mark’s drawer. He sits on the bed after, pursing his lips.

“Are we still talking about Jaebum getting drunk?” Mark asks. He has an inkling that whatever Jinyoung is bothered by isn’t really what it seems to be on the surface.

It’s not like Jaebum has a drinking problem to begin with, so there’s no basis for Jinyoung to be that disturbed by the fact that he went out to have a round of drinks with his friends from work. Jaebum’s alcohol tolerance isn’t the worst, and his only annoying habit is that he starts getting sleepy when he’s tipsy. Jaebum can’t really stir up much trouble with his eyes closed.

Jinyoung is definitely more concerned about being the first contact on Jaebum’s favourites list.

“It’s stupid, but who’s on your favourites list?” Jinyoung looks at Mark tentatively.

“You’re on it.”

Jinyoung’s mouth falls open a little in surprise. “Really?” he utters, his grip on the t-shirt in his hands tightening. “You’re not lying to me, are you?”

Mark shrugs noncommittally. “I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Okay, so these things can happen between normal friends?”

Mark stares at Jinyoung, trying to read his expression. Jinyoung looks earnest as he waits for Mark to answer him. “I guess…” Mark drawls, having trouble with understanding what Jinyoung is asking of him. “Am I on your favourites list?”

Jinyoung nods. “Number six. Right after Pizza Hut.”

“Did something happen between you and Jaebum?”

Jinyoung snorts, getting up to go to the bathroom for a quick shower. “What are you saying?” he says, patting Mark on the shoulder on his way out without giving Mark a chance to retort.

Mark is left to gaze blankly into the distance for the second time that day.

 

* * *

 

The next time Mark sees Jackson, they don’t acknowledge how Jackson abruptly upped and left in the locker room the other day. They don’t talk about Jinyoung, either. To be fair, they hardly get a moment’s peace to even converse with each other because the group of children they’re tasked with for the day are relentlessly hyperactive.

Mark spends the duration of the class trying to keep the kids away from each other as they’re more content with playing fight than they are to practice their backstrokes. It’s not the easiest job to command children around when they can’t even hear him past the noise they’re making.

As Mark grabs the shoulders of a four-year-old boy trying to slap another boy with a pool noodle, he steers the boy towards the other direction, carrying him over to Jackson. “Stop hitting each other,” Mark chides, trying to sound stern. “Listen to Jackson.”

Jackson has a girl standing next to him, already obediently kicking as she attempts to do the doggy paddle. “Come here, you rascal,” Jackson says to the boy, telling him to observe his friend’s technique.

Mark handles the other boy he left in the middle of the pool, confused over what to do now that his friend has been recruited over to do proper swimming. “Do you want to join us?” Mark asks, holding out his arms to let the boy know that he’ll carry him over if he wants.

The boy contemplates this for a moment before nodding, rushing into Mark’s arms.

Mark scoops him up in one swift motion, then takes big steps towards where Jackson is. “Now, you’re going to focus on swimming. No more playing.”

The children have finally been herded over to a corner, and Mark helps Jackson out with keeping all of them in line as Jackson demonstrates how they can float on their backs. It won’t be hard for the kids, because they all have arm floats strapped on.

Mark takes care of the little girl who’s the most eager to learn, promising to support her weight as she leans back until she’s comfortable with him letting go. “Trust me,” Mark coos softly, helping her as she lies down in the water. “Are you okay?”

She doesn’t dare to nod in fear that she’ll fall under the surface of the water, but she whispers a “yes” when Mark asks if he can let go.

Mark steps back from her as she floats, clearly content with conquering her fear as she grins from ear to ear. Mark is smiling, too, and he looks up to check on the other children at a further area of the pool.

Jackson is conducting a race for the two boys. There’s a boyish touch to Jackson’s movements as he claps happily while he cheers the boys on. He shrieks excitedly when they both complete the race in the style of the doggy paddle, patting them on the head in congratulations.

It’s cute. Jackson is cute when he’s excited. Just as Mark feels that Jackson is about to catch him looking, he turns back to look at the girl who’s floating away from him slowly by the gentle currents of the water. Mark reaches out to catch her by the ankles gently, so she doesn’t get too far out of his reach. He feels Jackson’s eyes trained on him.

When Mark looks back up, wanting to pretend to coincidentally meet eyes with Jackson, Jackson’s already looking away.

 

Jackson invites Mark over to his place after the swimming session, which is a first in… _awhile_. He doesn’t seem to be in a flirty mood, though, and only casually throws a passing remark of “Want to have pizza?” over his shoulder as he puts on a clean shirt after his shower.

Mark agrees nevertheless, because Jaebum and Jinyoung are both busy for the evening and he doesn’t have plans anyway. It’s either he goes to Jackson’s place or he goes back to his apartment to snack on junk food and watch whatever is on TV. He dries his hair with the towel in his hands, quirking the edge of his lips up into a smile when Jackson glances at him.

The smile Jackson reciprocates with is somewhat of a small, shy one. It’s different from any other smile Mark has seen on Jackson’s face, and it’s sort of fond, in a way.

Mark catches himself mid-thought and abandons that idea, taking the towel off of his head and throwing it into a laundry basket.

“Ready to go?” Jackson asks, picking up his bag.

“Yup!” Mark replies, hurriedly getting his things. “Let’s go.”

 

As Mark steps into Jackson’s apartment, it suddenly dawns on him why Jackson hasn’t asked him to come over recently. Random items are lying on the ground as Mark walks in, and most of them are articles of clothing.

“Did a cyclone rip up your apartment?” Mark asks, kicking aside a sweater with his socked feet. He takes his socks off after, stuffing them into his shoes.

Jackson laughs, not motioning to clean up the mess in the walkway. “It’s a long story, but these aren’t mine,” he says, somewhat vaguely.

Mark raises an eyebrow, going over to the couch in the living area to take a seat. If the things aren’t Jackson’s, that means they belong to someone else. This apartment is a studio, which only houses one bedroom, and Jackson doesn’t have a roommate of any sort. It doesn’t add up unless—

“A friend of mine,” Jackson pauses, glimpsing at Mark as he walks into the kitchen before continuing. “He’s staying with me. He’s owns a lot of stuff, and he’s not very neat.”

Mark sits in silence, trying to make sense of whatever Jackson is saying. If what Jinyoung told him rings true, Jackson has been going out with someone recently. It would be a likely explanation over why Jackson hasn’t been initiating anything with Mark, and also why _someone_ is staying at his place with him. It’s not the last thing Mark thought would come out of Jackson’s mouth. Jackson isn’t unattractive, plus he supposedly has a long line of love interests, so this isn’t anything unexpected.

Except it is unexpected, in a way. What makes any of the other people better than Mark?

Mark cuts his trail of thought short as it hits him that it’s bordering on jealousy. Who is Mark to be jealous? Why would Mark even feel uneasy with this? It doesn’t concern him. Jackson’s love life shouldn’t be of any importance to make Mark feel this way.

Mark settles on believing that he feels disturbed because it’d be weird for Jackson to be dating someone but still keep Mark as close as he does. It would put Mark in a bad light if whoever Jackson is going out with were to find out about their history and the blurred lines that are currently between them since Jackson hasn’t let Mark know of his new relationship status.

It’s not jealousy.

“Your friend,” Mark says, and he’s regretting the words as they come out of his mouth. “Is it Bambam?”

Jackson walks out of the kitchen, holding two cans of beer. “Oh,” Jackson exclaims, passing Mark a beer. “How did you know? Do you know him?” Jackson plops himself down on the other end of the couch, cracking open his can. “Bam did mention that he works at the café with Jinyoung on some shifts.”

Mark shakes his head. “No, Jinyoung just asked me about Bambam once.”

“Really? Why?”

Mark weighs the options in his head over how he should respond to Jackson’s question. Should he admit that Jinyoung was gossiping about Jackson’s love life, or should he make up a lie and hopefully get away with it?

Mark passes Jackson his can of beer instead, asking for help to open it. Jackson gives Mark his opened can, taking Mark’s unopened one.

“It’s nothing,” Mark chooses the fibbing route. “Jinyoung thought I’d know Bambam because I hang out with you.” Mark takes a swig of beer. “But I told him that I’ve never met him.”

There’s a wave of tension that envelops the room as Jackson observes Mark with a blank expression, his fingers that were previously struggling with the tab of the can coming to a halt. “I’m sorry,” Jackson says after a minute, finally succeeding to open his beer to take a sip. “This is all a little weird, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Mark sighs.

“Before your head goes in a million different directions, Bambam is a _friend_ ,” Jackson states, with emphasis on the word “friend”. “A close _dongsaeng_ , if you will.”

Mark doesn’t know what to say in return. He supposes that it’d be easier to be direct and outright ask if Jackson and Bambam are linked romantically instead of torturing himself with all the mystery. Plus, the definition of “friends” in Jackson’s dictionary is awfully warped, considering that he’s also a friend to Jackson. There could be a million definitions for the term “friends” now.

“Maybe Jinyoung would have told you that,” Jackson adds after a few seconds.

“Jinyoung?”

Jackson nods. “Yeah, he should know that Bam and I are basically brothers, right?” He gulps down two mouthfuls of beer before continuing to speak. “I’m sure Bam would have said something along those lines.”

Mark frowns. “Jinyoung usually works with Yugyeom alone, he wouldn’t know that much about Bambam.”

Jackson sets his can down on the coffee table, and Mark hears that’s it’s empty from the sound of it when it meets the table. “What else does Jinyoung say about me?”

“What?” Mark furrows his eyebrows, his grip on his can of beer tightening.

Jackson is acting rather hostile at the mention of Jinyoung. Mark wonders what Jinyoung has done to Jackson to warrant this reaction. They’ve never met each other to Mark’s knowledge.

“Why do you keep talking about Jinyoung?” Mark asks after some thought.

Jackson’s facial expression softens as he hears Mark’s words, and his shoulders that were previously held high deflate a bit. “I do, don’t I,” he mutters, physically waving the matter away with his hand. “Do you still want pineapple on a pizza or can we do something that’s actually edible this time?” Jackson stands up, heading towards the kitchen as he takes his phone out to call the local pizza place.

Mark blinks slowly, surprised by the change of topic. “Get whatever you want,” he replies, pursing his lips. “I eat everything.”

When the pizza arrives, Mark sees that Jackson still ordered him a large Hawaiian.

 

* * *

 

Jackson isn’t going out with Bambam. That’s the only thing that Mark can think about for the next day. He didn’t stay over at Jackson’s place that night, having left after they lazily got each other off on the couch as a boring black and white movie played in the background.

It’s not the best of arrangements, but Mark does what he can with what he has.

Jaebum comes over to visit because he doesn’t have to work on Saturdays, and Mark doesn’t have a session today. He’s lying on the edge of Mark’s bed as he scrolls through his phone lifted over his face in the air.

Mark pokes Jaebum with his feet, looking down at him from his position of leaning against the headboard. “Am I the second favourite contact on your phone?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow when Jaebum turns to look at him curiously.

“That’s a random thing to ask,” Jaebum mumbles, sniffling after.

“I heard Jinyoung’s number one, am I number two?”

Jaebum scrunches up his face into an expression of puzzlement. “What are you talking about? Who said Jinyoung was number one on my favourites list?”

“That night you blacked out at the karaoke room with your colleagues,” Mark explains, catching Jaebum in his lie. “Someone called Jinyoung because he was the first one on your contacts list. Did you think it was coincidence that Jinyoung picked you up?”

“I didn’t think it was coincidence, I just thought it was a happy mistake.”

Mark rolls his eyes. “So am I number two or not? Tell me the truth.”

Jaebum chews on his bottom lip, lowering his phone onto his chest. “You’re lower on the list,” he admits, frantically sitting up when he sees Mark’s lips curl into a sneer. “After my family! It’s not that far off.”

“How come Jinyoung’s so high up, then?”

“I’ve known him a long time,” Jaebum offers as a halfhearted excuse. “Anyway, it’s not like I don’t have you on my list of favourite contacts. You don’t even answer your phone when I call but you’re still on it. Stop being difficult.”

Mark scoffs, crossing his legs and his arms. There’s something that isn’t quite right about Jaebum and Jinyoung recently. They’ve been skirting around each other, and Mark knows that it’s something they have to solve themselves. He’s not going to interfere with their issues because he’s not the most effective meddler.

“How’s the swimming thing going with Jackson, by the way?” Jaebum asks, setting his phone aside. “You’re becoming fast friends, aren’t you?”

“I guess.”

“Yeah, Jackson’s sociable so it’s not a surprise that he managed to crack into your tough exterior so quickly.”

“Tough exterior? You’re the worst of us all, you have an entire vetting process for friends.” Mark sighs, moving so he can lie on his back on the bed.

Jaebum doesn’t deny it because he knows that it’s true. He doesn’t have to tell anyone verbally for them to know that he’s trying to decide if the friendship is worthwhile. He isn’t the type for small talk and pointless acquaintance.

Jaebum might seem like a distant, aloof person to most, but he’s actually just stoic and reserved. There’s a fine line between the two sets of descriptions, but he settles comfortably in one category and not the other.

“You know,” Mark starts, fully aware of what he’s about to say. “I’m starting to think about Jackson a lot. I like him.”

“What?” Jaebum utters inquisitively. “I guess it’d be hard not to like him.”

Mark shakes his head, licking his lips as he continues. “I’m just going to say it because I want to know if whatever that’s in my head is real.”

Jaebum scrunches his facial features up in bewilderment.

“I’m interested in Jackson. Romantically.”

As soon as the words escape his mouth, Mark feels lighter. It’s like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. It’s surprisingly liberating. He’s been thinking about it for days, maybe even weeks, on end. This thought has been looping in the back of his mind for the longest time, and he was always doubtful that he’d be _that_ stupid to develop feelings for someone he agreed to be _friends_ _with benefits_ with.

Maybe Mark is stupid, because whatever he said doesn’t sound ridiculous to him. He expected to burst out laughing after saying those words because _how could he?_ Why would he ever, in this lifetime, get caught up with feelings for Jackson when it’s the last thing their friendship needs?

Except he has. Mark has an undeniable attraction towards Jackson that involves more than physicality.

Jaebum’s jaw is hanging agape when Mark sneaks a glance at him. “Are you okay?” Jaebum says cautiously.

“I don’t think so.”

“If I had a list of things that I never thought I would ever hear from you, this would probably top it.” Jaebum holds his hands together in front of his chest, humming as he thinks. “What am I supposed to say?”

Mark shrugs. “I don’t know what to say either so…” he trails off.

Now that Mark has confirmed his biggest fear, he doesn’t know what else there is left for him to do. Talking about it isn’t going to help him come to a solution, especially not when he’s talking to Jaebum. He doesn’t think any of his friends would be able to say anything that can snap him out of this.

“Let’s play Overwatch,” Mark says to Jaebum as he motions to leave the room.

“You drop a bomb on me and now you want to play Overwatch?”

Mark purses his lips. He’d rather not think about how he just admitted that he might like Jackson in a way he shouldn’t out loud. He wasn’t expecting Jaebum to have the answers to what he should do about these feelings, but it’d be nice if Jaebum would indulge him in his need to distract himself from his impending doom. Mark hasn’t even let Jaebum in on the juiciest part of this sudden revelation. Jaebum would go into cardiac arrest if he knew.

“Do you want to play or not?” Mark asks once more, already moving towards the door to go to the living area where the game console is.

Jaebum squints at him menacingly for a second before standing up as well. “Okay, but only because I don’t know what else to say to you right now.”

 

“Jaebum and I had a moment a few weeks ago,” Jinyoung says to Mark as a greeting when he gets home that night, hours after Jaebum has left.

Mark is still seated in front of the television, his game controller momentarily forgotten as he looks up from his seat on the carpet. He stares at Jinyoung, his brain working in overdrive at trying to decipher the meaning behind Jinyoung’s words. “What did you say?”

Jinyoung kicks off his canvas shoes, padding over to Mark with firm steps. The sounds of his footsteps on the parquet are muffled by the socks on his feet. “I said that Jaebum and I had a _thing_ happen between us a few weeks ago. That should explain why we’re acting weird around each other.”

Mark untangles himself from his cross-legged position, standing up with shaky legs. “What are you talking about? What thing?”

“It’s complicated, but just know that we kissed, and then we realised what we were doing and stopped it before it got to the point of no return.”

“Why are you telling me this now?” Mark questions, watching as Jinyoung collapses onto the sofa with a thud.

Jinyoung throws his keys onto the coffee table then rests his elbow on the armrest of the sofa to support the weight of his head. He sighs loudly. “Jaebum told me about the whole Jackson thing,” he explains, holding a hand up before Mark can interrupt him. “Before you get on Jaebum’s case, he didn’t voluntarily give up that information. We talked about Jackson earlier and when I talked shit about Jackson, he defended him and some words slipped.”

“Okay,” Mark drawls, still thinking about what Jinyoung said he did with Jaebum. “But can we talk about you and Jaebum? When was this?”

“That’s not the point!” Jinyoung argues. “Or maybe it is. I don’t know yet, but I want to talk about you first.”

Mark realises that his game has been running the entire time and he runs to turn off the Xbox before taking a seat next to Jinyoung. “There’s nothing to say about me, I’m not going to do anything,” Mark says, finding a comfortable position as he lays his head in Jinyoung’s lap, readying himself for a heart-to-heart talk.

These moments don’t come easy for both Mark and Jinyoung. They’re two people who dread talking about feelings, so they rarely have conversations revolving purely around emotions.

It’s evident how out of place they feel when Jinyoung presses his lips into a thin line as he gazes down at Mark’s face settled on his thighs. “Why aren’t you going to do anything?” Jinyoung finally asks, leaning back onto the sofa so he’s sitting more comfortably now.

“I don’t know.”

“You do know.”

“Maybe I do,” Mark admits. “It’s stupid.”

Jinyoung’s fingers comb through Mark’s hair gently as he speaks. “Tell me what you know,” Jinyoung coaxes, and Mark catches a glimpse of a small smile on his face.

“Jackson and I are sort of friends with benefits,” Mark surprises himself with every word that escapes his mouth. “I’m going to get over these feelings because they’re not practical and I’m sure it’s some sort of fucked up post-sex thing. Post-coital oxytocin, or something.”

“Are you for real?” Jinyoung asks, his fingers coming to an abrupt stop as he invades Mark’s field of vision with an expression of concern. “You were having sex with Jackson this whole time?”

“It’s not as bad as it sounds. We just help each other out.”

Jinyoung massages the sides of his temples with his fingers as he shuts his eyes. “Mark Tuan,” he states, firmly. “This makes it worse! I was thinking it was crazy enough that you’re into someone with a boyfriend, but now it’s downright fucked up because you were touching his dick. What the fuck, Mark?”

“Jackson isn’t dating Bambam,” Mark points out.

“What?”

“Yeah, he isn’t dating Bambam. And I’m not _not_ telling him because of whatever you thought was going on with Bambam, I’m not telling him because that’s not what we are. He’s not going to be into it and it will make things awkward.”

Jinyoung sighs, and it’s long and deep. “How do you know he’s not into you that way? You guys touch each other’s dicks.”

“We’re _friends_ ,” Mark deadpans. “That’s what we said we’d be when it all started.”

“Okay, so you’re _friends_ ,” Jinyoung lets the word roll of his tongue like venom. “And now you want to be more than friends but you’re thinking about how you promised to only be friends before it got to this point.”

Mark nods. “I mean, I guess. He’s a good friend. I don’t want to fuck it up.”

“I was just about to tell you that Jaebum and I are putting aside whatever happened between us because we didn’t want to risk our friendship,” Jinyoung pauses. He looks down at Mark once more, and there’s a look in his eyes that Mark can’t quite pinpoint. “I know it sounds sappy… I’m not saying that’s what you have to do, but I don’t think _this_ what you want, is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Sex with no strings attached. I don’t think that it’s feasible anymore.”

Mark sits up, turning to face Jinyoung. He pulls his legs up to his chest to cradle himself. “I haven’t thought about it,” he declares. “Don’t worry about me. I’m going to get over it.”

Jinyoung’s expression is sympathetic. “It’s going to be real fucking hard if you’ve seen his dick,” he retorts, and Mark smacks his shoulder. “I’m not saying you have to do what Jaebum and I did, but I don’t think it’s going to be easy to push whatever you feel aside if you continue doing whatever you do.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Mark repeats. “I know what I’m doing.” Mark hugs his legs closer, knowing very well that he’s unsure of what he’s doing. 


	2. Chapter 2

As the last month of summer approaches, there’s a slow in the appointments for swimming lessons in the outdoor pool of the country club. They don’t have as many sessions to conduct, so Mark only had to meet up with Jackson two times this week. There’s about a month left before the new semester commences at university, so that’s only two weeks before Mark won’t see Jackson regularly anymore.

It’s something Mark has never really thought about. Ever since they started half-teaching and half-babysitting together, it’s been a constant event on his roster. Now that the job is coming to its end, Mark can only consider what else will be different.

Jinyoung reckons that it’s a good thing because Mark can have as much fun as he wants then have a clean cut separation after the gig ends, but Jaebum reasons that Jackson is working towards a double degree in both law _and_ business, so he will share some of their modules. They think too far ahead for Mark sometimes. Mark is mostly occupied by the idea of not working anymore. It’s not going to be an obligation for him to see Jackson and get paid for it soon.

Mark receives a text message from Jackson at 8pm when he’s having a hotpot dinner with Jaebum and Jinyoung. He pretends not to see the notification that flashes on his phone’s screen, but the fact that he can still spy his phone in his peripheral vision makes it difficult to ignore. He’s never been particularly good at self control.

 _What are you up to?_ the message reads, and Jackson’s usual emoji storm is absent.

Mark catches the judging look Jinyoung directs his way, but he makes a show of not seeing Jinyoung over the fumes being emitted from the hotpot between them. _I’m eating out, why?_ Mark replies, sighing when he realises that he didn’t bother waiting awhile before responding.

_Want to come over after? I’m bored._

Mark pockets his phone, picking up his chopsticks as he considers the offer. He pokes at the slices of fishcake Jaebum put into his bowl. “What are you guys doing after this?” Mark asks, taking a bite out of a piece of tofu.

“Was that Jackson?” Jinyoung is able to see through Mark’s ruse.

Jaebum snickers, chewing loudly. “I have to go home, I haven’t fed my cats yet.”

Mark nods, glossing over Jinyoung’s accusative glare. “Take Jinyoung with you,” Mark suggests, pointing at Jinyoung with his chopsticks. “I’m sure you’ll need some extra hands to feed three cats.”

“If you want me out of the way so you can go get dick, you could just say so,” Jinyoung snaps.

“That’s crude.”

Jaebum doesn’t say anything and instead reaches to the centre of the table to take some noodles out of the hotpot. He slurps the _ramyeon_ loudly, enjoying his spectatorship. Mark assumes that Jaebum is still in the dark regarding the details of Mark and Jackson’s relationship.

Or rather, _friendship_. That involves activities that people in relationships perform. Except Mark and Jackson aren’t sharing that kind of relationship. Basically, Jaebum is still clueless to these complications.

“Whatever,” Jinyoung mumbles, nibbling at a piece of rice cake held between his chopsticks. "Do whatever you want.”

 

Mark hates to admit it, but he does do what he wants to do. He’s about to go over to Jackson’s place unannounced because he didn’t bother to give Jackson a proper reply through text message. It’s a spontaneous decision after a lengthy struggle he had with himself over coming to a verdict on what he should do.

Jaebum asks if Jinyoung wants to help him feed his cats, probably out of politeness because Mark brought it up earlier, and Jinyoung agrees. Jinyoung’s acceptance of his invitation is not without a sharp scowl directed at Mark’s way, but Mark supposes that Jinyoung only said yes because he knew Mark wanted an excuse to be able to go see Jackson without feeling guilty. Jinyoung opens his mouth, seemingly to start chiding Mark, but Jaebum’s firm tug on his wrist effectively gets him to leave before he can start to preach.

The walk over to Jackson’s apartment complex wouldn’t take more than 10 minutes if Mark walked at a normal pace, but he’s plagued by nerves and uncertainty, so he slows his footsteps down and it ends up taking him 20 minutes.

As he rings the doorbell, it dawns on him that Jackson might have invited someone else over after not getting a reply. Jackson’s message asking if he wanted to come over was sent almost an hour ago. It wouldn’t be surprising if he took Mark’s lack of response as a refusal.

It’s going to be painfully awkward if Jackson is already busy with someone else. It’s definitely going to taint their friendship for the rest of its lifetime, and Mark doesn’t think that he’s strong enough to withstand the utter humiliation such an event will bring upon him. Before he can turn his back and leave to avoid whatever lies behind the door, Jackson swings it open and pulls him into the apartment.

Jackson has a lazy smile on his face as he shuts the door behind them. “You’re here early,” he states without heat, his eyes trained on Mark as watches him take off his shoes.

The apartment is cleaner as compared to the last time Mark was here. There aren’t any clothes lying around on the ground haphazardly, and Mark surveys the rest of the place with a glimpse. “I wasn’t sure if I would come,” Mark replies, noting that Bambam seems to have left.

When he finally looks at Jackson, he notes that the latter is shirtless and in a pair of low-hanging grey sweatpants. Jackson’s hair is tousled, some strands falling messily over his eyes. He stands in the middle of the room with a hip cocked to a side, rubbing at the back of his neck as he continues staring at Mark.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Jackson mumbles, walking towards his bedroom where he presumably came out from after he heard Mark arrive.

“Where’s Bambam?” Mark asks, following behind him with light feet. Mark seats himself down at the edge of Jackson’s bed.

Jackson is lying on his bed diagonally stomach-down. “He finally found his own place,” he replies, turning over to rest on his side so he can make eye contact with Mark as they speak. “He moved in with Yugyeom a couple of days ago, but he only picked up the last of his shit today.”

“Do you miss him?” The question escapes Mark’s mouth before he can fully process it. He remembers what Jackson said about treating Bambam like his little brother, so it’s a bit stupid for him to still find the nerve to ask this with other implications. “I mean, you know, since you’re back to being alone now,” he adds as an afterthought.

Jackson hums in consideration. “I guess,” he says, his gaze unfaltering. “But that’s why I texted you.”

Mark feels small as he tries not to break eye contact. Jackson’s stare is piercing, and his expression doesn’t give away any of his thoughts. Jackson smiles when he notices Mark’s confusion. He clambers over to Mark, resting his head on Mark’s knee when he lies back down.

Mark can’t fight the urge to trace a side of Jackson’s face with his fingers, his thumb stroking the lower half of Jackson’s cheek gently. Jackson is looking up at Mark with curiosity, as if he’s wondering what Mark will do next. Mark doesn’t know himself.

“Sorry,” Mark whispers as his fingertips continue to trail along the edge of Jackson’s jaw, feeling the beginnings of stubble forming along his face.

“No,” Jackson replies, and Mark notices that Jackson has his eyes locked on Mark’s lips. “ _I’m_ sorry.”

There’s a bit of a gap in time as Mark stops moving, his fingers coming to a halt right at the angle of Jackson’s jaw. “What for?”

Jackson doesn’t give a verbal reply. Instead, he reaches up to guide Mark’s head down towards his by the neck, and Mark foolishly lets him do as he pleases.

They kiss. It’s short and sweet, but impossible to deepen because of how their heads are positioned. It seems like Jackson realises that, too, so he gets up, his movements languidly slow, and he turns to gauge the look on Mark’s face.

Mark schools his expression into one of nonchalance, as if he doesn’t know what Jackson wants from him.

He’s not an idiot. They don’t kiss unless something else follows.

“I’m going to kiss you again,” Jackson announces, and Mark can’t help but chuckle lightly. “What? What’s so funny?”

“Saying it out loud makes it sound weird.”

Jackson reaches over with his arms and buries one hand in Mark’s hair and grabs the nape of Mark’s neck with the other. His face is close again, and there’s an overwhelming aura of warmth that radiates from him as he leans forward, his breath ghosting against Mark’s lips. “Yeah?” Jackson asks. “I’m just going to do it, then.”

Mark smirks, his hands finding their way to the nape of Jackson’s neck as their lips meet. Jackson tastes like minty toothpaste, and Mark deduces that he was planning to call it a night when he assumed Mark wasn’t going to turn up. Mark lets his hands slide down to wander along the smooth expanse of skin on Jackson’s chest, resting one of his palms right in the centre where he can feel Jackson’s chest rise and fall with every breath.

Jackson doesn’t flinch under Mark’s touch although Mark can tell that his fingers are icy cold. It’s getting chillier now that autumn is approaching, and Mark has always had terrible heat conduction to his extremities.

It’s different, the way they kiss. When it used to be just a bridge, something to occupy themselves with in the meantime before they touched each other properly, it feels more intimate this time. There’s a certain tenderness about the way Jackson’s fingers are tangled in Mark’s hair.

Jackson breaks the kiss, mouthing down Mark’s neck. He’s gentle all the same, lightly pulling at the ends of Mark’s hair to tilt his head away so he has better access to Mark’s collarbone.

“Jackson,” Mark breathes out, and it sounds strangled to his ears.

Jackson releases his grip on Mark, his hands now falling down to Mark’s side where he takes the ends of Mark’s shirt. “Want to take this off for me?” he says against Mark’s collarbone, and there’s a heat that radiates from his words.

Mark nods, noting that they’re treading into unchartered territory. He sits back, locking eyes with Jackson as he peels his shirt off and throws it aside. “Why do you need my shirt off?” Mark asks, playing coy.

“I don’t know,” Jackson responds, pushing Mark down onto the bed and climbing up on top of him. “You tell me.”

Mark swallows harshly as Jackson’s lips find their way back onto the skin of his neck, even more sensitive now that Mark’s upper body is exposed to the air. It’s cold tonight, but Jackson’s mouth provides a temporary warmth as distraction.

Jackson continues leaving open-mouthed kisses all the way down to Mark’s chest, and Mark squirms under Jackson’s hold.

It’s obvious that Jackson has the upper hand right now with the way Mark’s not questioning any of his actions. “Jackson,” Mark whispers, pulling lightly on Jackson’s hair to coax his head up so they’re looking each other in the eyes.

Jackson sits up obediently, perching himself right on Mark’s abdomen. Mark can feel the erection in Jackson’s sweatpants pressing up against his skin. “What?”

Mark’s heart is racing, and he hesitates over what he wants to say next. It’s something that he’s been thinking about — just a dumb thought that sometimes fuels his masturbation sessions. Mostly consisting of Jackson. Not of Jackson and their sloppy handjobs or blowjobs but of Jackson _fucking_ him. There’s no way he could ask for this to happen without Jackson getting smug and Mark falling deeper and deeper down this blackhole that’s already consuming him.

It’s the last straw, isn’t it? There’s not much else that they haven’t done together. Of course, other than the romantic, non-sexual activities, but those are reserved for people who are actually in love and in a committed relationship.

Where they stand is still blurry, but it’s not unacceptable for them to fuck. It wouldn’t be something that they’ve done together before, but it’s not much different from a hand on a dick.

“Do you want to fuck?” Jackson asks before Mark can banish the trail of his thoughts from his head. It‘s as if Jackson is reading his mind. It’s rather freaky, actually.

“What?” Mark splutters, unable to control how his ears become hot from embarrassment. He hopes Jackson doesn’t notice.

“You don’t?”

Mark licks his lips, averting his eyes. He looks down at the bulge in Jackson’s pants. “Yeah,“ he says, his treacherous fingers giving his eagerness away as he palms at Jackson’s cock through the material. “We could do that.”

It’s not that he avoids looking at Jackson after he speaks, but he tries not to make direct eye contact. He hears Jackson’s light chuckle coming from above him before Jackson takes his hand away so he can lie back down on Mark and reconnect their lips. Jackson slips one of his legs in between Mark’s outstretched ones, and he angles himself so that his knees rest just below the area of Mark’s crotch.

Their kiss is more heated this time around. Jackson lips are plush against Mark’s, and there’s no hesitation to be felt when Jackson deepens the kiss.

Mark doesn’t know where to put his hands, so he settles on holding the sides of Jackson’s face. He gasps into the kiss when Jackson presses his thigh onto his crotch, the pressure sending small shockwaves up his spine. “Jackson,” Mark whispers, feeling Jackson’s thumb on the inside of the waistband of his pants.

“Take this off for me, yeah?” Jackson says, his lips moving to nip at the shell of Mark’s ear. “I want you naked.”

Mark swallows in an attempt to get rid of the lump lodged in the middle of his throat.

Jackson pushes himself up, reaching over to the end table next to his bed to pull out a condom and a bottle of lube. He throws them on the bed, his eyes watching Mark like a hawk as Mark fumbles to take off his pants without getting off the bed.

There’s no question that the thought process in Mark’s head is going haywire at the moment. He knows that this isn’t something he should be doing, but he can’t get himself to stop it. He tugs his pants down to his thighs, trying to shimmy out of them but failing as they get caught under his weight as he moves.

Jackson chuckles, helping him out by peeling it off his legs as Mark laughs with him. “Underwear,” Jackson reminds Mark, fingers already pulling at the material.

“Pushy,” Mark mumbles as he lets Jackson take them off for him. His cock is half-hard at this point, and Mark feels conscious of how he’s the only one completely naked right now. “I can’t be the only one without clothes on,” he says to Jackson, watching as Jackson shakes his head as he gets out of his sweatpants.

Jackson isn’t wearing anything underneath the sweatpants, and that piece of knowledge makes a bit more blood rush south of Mark’s body. “Happy?” Jackson asks.

Mark’s eyes rake across Jackson’s body, taking in how Jackson is evenly tanned all around. “Yup.” Mark takes the condom lying beside him, ripping the wrapper open with his teeth because he knows he’d just struggle if he tried to open it with his fingers.

Jackson is stroking his cock to full hardness, and he plucks the unwrapped condom from between Mark’s teeth and rolls it onto his cock effortlessly. It almost looks like a well-rehearsed performance. Jackson smiles at him, picking up the bottle of lube and squeezing out a fair amount onto his palm, before throwing it over his shoulder. “Get on all fours,” Jackson commands, coating his fingers with lube.

Mark complies, turning away from Jackson as he plants his face down on the pillow, sticking his ass up in the air.

Jackson smacks it, making Mark flinch. A part of Mark wants to turn around to watch Jackson’s face, but a larger part of him is aware that it’s better this way. Mark feels Jackson’s finger circle around his entrance, prodding lightly at the hole. As Jackson slowly slides his finger in, his body looms over Mark’s as he tries to survey Mark’s reaction. “Does it hurt?” Jackson asks, halting his movement.

“No,” Mark replies, wincing a bit from the intrusion. “Just go slow.” It’s not the most comfortable feeling in the world, but it’s not exactly unpleasant.

Jackson moves his finger deeper, quirking it on the inside to stretch Mark out. He works at this for a minute or two, and he finally adds a second finger when Mark tells him to. He reaches in even deeper now, scissoring his fingers inside Mark to open him up further.

Mark moans when Jackson’s fingers brush against his sensitive spot. The noise he makes is muffled by the pillow. “Do that again,” he says, biting the material of the pillowcase.

“What, this?” Jackson asks, burying his fingers deep this time, and Mark gasps. “I’m going to try putting in a third one.”

Mark hums into the pillow. His hand moves to wrap around his cock to distract himself from the feeling of Jackson adding a third finger. He shuts his eyes, trying to control his breathing as he pumps at his cock to the rhythm of Jackson’s fingers.

Jackson’s free hand grabs the side of Mark’s waist, his blunt fingernails digging into the skin as he continues fingering Mark. Jackson’s soon finds the same spot again, and when he presses onto it with more pressure this time, Mark can’t help but yelp in surprise. “There?” Jackson leans over to ask, his lips right next to Mark’s ear. He drags his fingers out a bit before ramming them back in, aiming for the same spot. “Is it there?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Mark breathes out, panting a bit. “Yes.”

“You’re going to finish even before I fuck you, aren’t you?” Jackson’s voice is low as he questions Mark.

Mark whimpers in response, reeling in the movement of Jackson’s fingers. “Yeah,” he chokes out, he feels himself grasp tightly at the pillow under his face, his knuckles turning white. “Fuck me.”

Jackson takes his fingers out, and the warmth across Mark’s back disappears as Jackson leans back to slather lube onto his cock. Mark hopes he remembered to warm the lube first. “Let me know if you want to stop,” Jackson quietly says as he angles himself against Mark.

The tip of Jackson’s cock presses against Mark’s entrance, and Mark bites down on his bottom lip to stop himself from making any noise. Jackson soon pushes in, slowly, and Mark cheek against the pillow feels numb as he revels in the feeling of Jackson stretching him wide. Jackson pushes in further and further, and Mark thinks he might split apart under him.

“You good?” Jackson asks when he’s inside, all the way down to the hilt.

“Yeah,” Mark replies, his voice strained as he adjusts to Jackson’s girth. “Move.”

Jackson hesitates for a moment, but then he starts moving, thrusting into Mark with a steady rhythm. He reaches down, swatting Mark’s hand away as he grips around Mark’s cock, pumping at it with the same pace. He grunts as he bottoms out, his fingers tightening around Mark.

Jackson then pulls out completely before slamming back in with renewed force, causing Mark to moan with the sudden movement. Jackson’s thumb circles around the head of Mark’s cock as he continues stroking him. Jackson’s thumb rubs against the slit, and Mark almost wants to crumble from the overload of sensation.

It almost drives him over the edge when Jackson’s dick brushes over his prostate again and his vision goes white for a bit.

Jackson removes himself from Mark, patting one of Mark’s asscheeks as he tells him to roll over. “It’ll be easier on your back,” Jackson explains, moving closer to Mark as Mark lies down. He hoists Mark’s legs over his shoulders before positioning himself in front of Mark’s entrance once more, pushing past the rings of muscle.

“Jackson,” Mark calls, reaching up to pull Jackson’s face towards him by the neck. He kisses Jackson as Jackson begins thrusting into him, his fingers gripping tight around Jackson’s hair. He struggles to maintain the intensity of the kiss as his mouth falls slightly agape while Jackson fucks him.

Jackson takes Mark’s cock in his hand again, bringing Mark closer to orgasm. Mark soon comes without warning after a few more pumps of Jackson’s hand, his come landing on his abdomen as he pants against Jackson’s mouth.

Mark feels himself tighten around Jackson’s cock, and Jackson continues to milk every drop of come from Mark’s dick.

Jackson’s hips buck when he comes inside Mark’s ass with a grunt. He kisses Mark deeply, his tongue exploring every inch of Mark’s mouth as Mark tries to keep up. Jackson pulls out slowly, separating their lips as he rolls over to collapse beside Mark after.

Mark watches as Jackson’s chest heaves with his breathing that hasn’t quite evened out yet. That was good. Just as good (if not better) than what he imagined having sex with Jackson would feel like. This knowledge doesn’t help his case at all, but it’s the last thing on his mind as he watches the rise and fall of Jackson’s chest.

The palpitations of his heart threaten to hammer right out of his chest, and Mark sees Jackson sit up. Jackson takes the condom off his softening cock to tie it off.

“Stay the night,” Jackson breaks the silence to say after awhile, getting up to throw the used condom away into the bin.

Mark wants to search Jackson’s face to pinpoint his expression, but Jackson doesn’t turn to look at him. “Okay,” he agrees against his better judgement.

 

* * *

 

As Mark’s eyes flutter open, he’s aware of how his limbs are tangled with someone else’s, and that there’s the weight of someone’s head resting on his chest, still fast asleep. He peeks through his half-lidded eyes only to see a familiar head of blond hair, the platinum strands glistening under the sunlight seeping in from the crack in the blinds.

 _Jackson_.

A wave of realisation washes across Mark as he’s reminded of the fact that he had sex with Jackson last night. Now here Jackson is, his face buried in the material of the cotton t-shirt he gave Mark yesterday.

Jackson has one arm wrapped around Mark’s waist from the front, and his other hand is lying next to Mark’s head, as if Jackson was playing with his hair before they passed out. Jackson’s eyes are still shut tight, and his breathing is shallow and even in his sleep. He looks serene and at peace.

Although Mark desperately needs to go to the toilet, he can’t get himself to move in case he wakes Jackson up.

It’s incredibly stupid. This entire situation is the dumbest thing that has ever happened to Mark Tuan. He’s breaking every promise to himself by remaining in his current position, but there’s nothing Mark can do to rectify the wrongs he has already committed. Last night was a mistake. It was Mark’s fault from the very start for even coming over.

But the feeling of Jackson so close to him, the fact that Mark is actually holding Jackson as they’re lying here at this very moment, it makes everything seem less significant.

That is until Jackson stirs in his sleep and rolls away, rubbing at his eyes as he blinks himself awake.

Mark knows that this is just the beginning of the end.

Jackson’s legs are still caught between Mark’s own, and Mark looks down only to see that they both wore briefs to sleep last night. Jackson isn’t even wearing a shirt. Jackson turns over to look at Mark and there’s no indication of surprise on his face as he registers Mark’s presence. He doesn’t even motion to detach his legs from Mark’s.

“Hey,” Mark whispers, gently freeing himself from the mess of limbs under the covers. He winces a bit when he moves too quickly, the soreness in his behind a shameful reminder of his acts the night before.

Jackson smiles with a small quirk on the edge of his lips. “Hey,” Jackson says back, yawning after. “Did you sleep well last night?”

Mark shrugs, very much awake now although he doesn’t feel fully rested. “I should have went home yesterday,” Mark mutters under his breath as he gets off the bed. He turns to meet eyes with Jackson, who stares back at him in confusion. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?” Jackson asks, his eyes finally opening up to their usual size as he wakes up fully. “I told you to stay.”

Mark searches for his discarded pants on the floor, finding his shirt also in the pile right beside the bed. “Yeah, I know,” Mark mumbles, pulling on his pants. “I have to go.”

“Why the rush to leave?”

Mark opens his mouth to say something, but nothing in particular comes to his mind. There’s not much he can say to Jackson at this point without giving himself away. The truth is that the problem with whatever they’re doing lies with Mark and Mark alone.

Jackson is probably adhering to the guidelines he has set in his head so he doesn’t lose himself in their arrangement. Mark is the one overstepping his own boundaries, giving himself more and more to worry about.

It makes it worse now that Mark has acknowledged that he wishes he could be something more to Jackson. Not just a meaningless lay on a lonely Friday night. There’s no way for him to rid himself of these unnecessary feelings now that he’s _indulging_ himself with the activities that he shouldn’t get used to. Whatever happened last night was a one-time thing, especially when Mark fell asleep with Jackson holding him.

It might not mean anything to Jackson, but it definitely ignites a sense of wishful thinking in Mark’s heart. Some sort of sick inception that maybe, just _maybe_ , this could be how they’d wake up every day.

Except this isn’t and will never be it, ever.

“I have to meet someone,” Mark finally lies, wanting to take off the oversized t-shirt Jackson lent him but deciding against it when he sees the sorry state his own shirt from yesterday is in. “Can I keep this for now?” he asks, pointing at the shirt.

“Yeah,” Jackson agrees, still seated on the bed. He’s leaning against the headboard now, hands resting on his abdomen as he observes Mark. “You can have it. It looks better on you anyway.”

Mark purses his lips. Jackson’s too charming for his own good. “I’ll return it to you when I next see you,” Mark promises, feeling his pockets to check for his phone and keys. When he confirms that they’re there, he gestures towards the door with his head as he combs his fingers through his hair. “I’m leaving, I’ll see you.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jackson says after awhile. “Let me know when you get home.” Jackson moves to get off the bed, but Mark stops him by holding up a hand.

“It’s cool, I’ll show myself out.”

Jackson raises an eyebrow, stopping himself mid-action. “Is everything okay with you, Mark?”

Mark blinks at him blankly, licking his lips to ease the anxiety building up inside of him. “Don’t worry about me,” Mark replies noncommittally, waving his hand in dismissal as he leaves the bedroom with quick steps. “This isn’t my first time here, I know where the exit is.”

Mark doesn’t turn to check if Jackson still follows behind him. He slips his shoes on in a hurry, patting his pocket one last time to ensure he has his phone. He then lets the front door slam shut behind him when he leaves. His pulse is beating erratically as he walks away.

He checks his phone after he gets into a taxi, not bothered to trek home by foot at this point, and he sees multiple text messages from Jinyoung asking what he’s doing. It’s a simple enough question, but Mark can’t find it in him to respond directly. _I don’t know what I’m doing_ , he types into his screen with forceful taps, staring at the words as they form. He doesn’t send the message, knowing very well that it’ll only immortalise this frustration within him.

He deletes the sentence, replacing it with a simple _I’m on the way home_.

 

* * *

 

Mark lies to Jinyoung. He’s been doing that a lot recently — lying. He constructs a fortress of lies around himself so he doesn’t have to acknowledge the truth of how this all spans from the fact that he just won’t do the right thing. _The right thing_ is a vague concept, though, because there isn’t really a solid decision to make that will solve this entire mess.

Jinyoung is sceptical, of course. Mark knows that Jinyoung isn’t dense enough to buy into his fib of how “nothing happened” and how he only stayed over at Jackson’s place because it was late by the time he wanted to come home.

The way Jinyoung’s eyes are fixated on Mark’s form — huddled up in a cocoon of blankets so he doesn’t have to get out from his room and face the big, bad world — conveys everything that Jinyoung doesn’t say verbally. Jinyoung sighs, rolling his eyes as he leaves Mark to wallow in his own self pity.

Jackson hasn’t contacted Mark in two days after they last exchanged text messages when Mark arrived home that morning. Mark had sent him a curt _I got back_ , only to receive an equally as short _great, thanks for coming over_ as a reply.

It doesn’t make him feel very good, if he’s honest. He’s in a grey area. He knows that there has to be a reason why Jackson told him to stay over that night. Mark has been trying to find out exactly _what_ this entire time. It’s consuming most of his brainpower.

There is a small, tiny, practically _minuscule_ possibility that Jackson might feel something more for Mark. Something beyond platonic friendship and sexual frustration. This can be justified by how Jackson told Mark to stay. It also explains why Mark woke up with Jackson’s body practically draped around his — because Jackson cuddled him to sleep, more or less. And _cuddling_ isn’t something that they’ve done as normal friends.

However, there’s always an opposing argument. Jackson hasn’t bothered to talk to Mark for days since that encounter, and the entirety of their relationship outside of work is built on visiting Jackson’s apartment and putting their hands down each other’s pants. There’s not much to them besides that. It’s tough to believe that anything romantic can blossom from something like this.

The two prospects weigh heavy on Mark’s mind. He wants to just call Jackson up and tell him that he _might_ have feelings for him that aren’t supposed to be there, and maybe that will be it. If Jackson doesn’t think that’s what he wants from Mark, they can just stop seeing each other. Mark will find a way to make sure he never has to see Jackson again. Ever.

That’s obviously not plausible when Mark factors in the fact that Jackson attends the same university that he does, and will even be taking some of his classes this semester. He’s going to have to continue to hang out around Jackson, especially since Jaebum and Jackson are friends too. Everything will go to hell if Mark confesses and Jackson doesn’t reciprocate. It will make for very awkward situations in the future, which have never been Mark’s forte.

All Mark can do is think. He’s going to have one of his last swimming classes with Jackson soon and then it’ll be the end of his summer break. Everything will fall back into place again after that.

As long as Mark just holds out for another two weeks, just two short measly weeks, he’ll probably be able to put these feelings for Jackson aside, right? If he only ever sees Jackson for split seconds in the future, maybe when they accidentally bump into each other during lectures, whatever they had between them would have definitely fizzled out by then. It’ll be easy to see Jackson as _just a friend_ instead of _a friend and more_ when that time comes.

Everything about this entire situation gives Mark a headache. Nothing about this makes any sense.

This is a passing phase, Mark reminds himself, wanting to wrap up these thoughts before they consume him whole. Mark just has to keep his head up high and remember that this is all a game. It’s supposed to be _fun_ , not torturous.

Jackson’s shirt dangling on the edge of Mark’s bed is reminder of exactly that.

 

“Mark,” Jackson calls from beside him, and Mark whips his head over to look at Jackson in surprise. “ _Mark_.”

“Yeah?” Mark asks, and he’s suddenly aware that he’s been drifting off for God knows how long as he picks up the remaining floats the kids threw in the pool after they left. “Sorry, I was thinking about something.”

The next week will be their last one, Mark realises. They had to get the children wrapped up immediately when they left the pool because the temperature’s been dropping steadily over the past week. This summer came and went by in a flash.

Mark tries not to lock eyes with Jackson for too long, resuming his task as he waits for Jackson to explain why he was calling for him earlier. He waddles through the shallow water, cradling the last pool noodle he sees in the crook of his elbow. He pretends not to notice how Jackson still has his gaze focused on him a few steps away.

“You’ve been thinking a lot today,” Jackson breaks the silence to say, turning away to walk towards the steps leading out of the pool. “Anything particular on your mind?”

 _You_ , Mark wants to say, but doesn’t. “No,” he says in a dismissive manner, throwing the pool noodles over the edge of the pool onto the ground. He approaches the steps leading out of the pool where Jackson is standing with hesitant steps.

Jackson holds out a hand to guide him out, and although it’s unnecessary, Mark takes his hand anyway. “Are you sure it’s nothing I can help you with?” Jackson asks, his grip on Mark’s fingers feeling awfully familiar.

“No,” Mark says again, trying not to imagine how it would feel to interlock his fingers with Jackson’s. “I’m really not thinking of anything.”

“So you’re trying to tell me that every time you’re quiet, you’re not thinking of anything?”

Mark glances down at their hands and wriggles his fingers out of Jackson’s grasp, making his way towards the lounge chair where he left his towel earlier so he doesn’t have to look Jackson in the eye. “Yes and no,” he replies, swallowing as he brings the towel to his face. “What’s it to you anyway?”

Jackson is quiet for a bit, and Mark wonders if he was too harsh with his words. “I’m just curious about what goes through that head of yours,” Jackson finally admits after awhile, and that confession causes something in the centre of Mark’s chest to contract.

To alleviate the awkwardness of having to formulate a proper response, Mark laughs softly, sneaking a glance behind his back to watch Jackson bend over to pick up the pool noodles from the ground.

“Really,” Jackson exclaims, coming over next to Mark to nudge him in the back with an elbow. “What’s underneath that mysterious exterior?”

“Murderous intent,” Mark retorts, bunching his towel in his hands. “What’s behind all your talk, then?”

Jackson hums in thought for a moment, gesturing for Mark to leave with him. He has a bunch of pool noodles in his arms, and he moves them out of Mark’s reach when Mark motions to take some from him. “Crippling anxiety,” Jackson deadpans, before chuckling. “Okay, maybe more of… a fragile self-image.”

Mark gapes at him, trying to think of something to say back. Jackson doesn’t come off as someone who would take themselves too seriously. Mark’s question was a smart-ass attempt at being witty, but Jackson’s answer doesn’t make him feel very smart. Jackson always made his conversational skills seem effortless with the way he carries himself — full of confidence and well-practiced body language.

“It’s a _joke_ ,” Jackson says, pushing open the door to the office with his shoulder. Mark holds it open for him with a hand as he squeezes himself through the space. “It’s not as deep as it sounds.”

It didn’t sound like a joke. Maybe it was an exaggerated one, but it leaves Mark wondering if Jackson is trying to express that he’s not always as sure of himself as he seems.

Youngjae is seated at his desk as per usual, his glasses perched on his nose bridge as he looks up at them tiredly. “How was the weather today?” he asks Mark as he eyes Jackson making his way to the back of the office where the storage area is. “It’s getting a bit chillier now, isn’t it?”

Mark nods, crossing his arms over his bare chest. He realises that he’s still in his swimming attire. “Yeah, I can almost feel autumn already.”

“It’s barely the beginning of August,” Youngjae laughs, looking back at the paperwork on his table. “Has Jackson been been nice to you?”

Jackson resurfaces from the back of the office at this moment, clicking his tongue on the roof of his mouth as he approaches them. “Of course I have,” he bellows with disbelief, resting his hip on the edge of Youngjae’s desk as he crosses his arms. “What kind of person do you think I am? A bully?”

“No, of course not. I was just asking to make sure.”

“Alright, then. Tell him, Mark.”

Mark turns his head to look at Jackson, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “Tell him what?”

Jackson is grinning. He runs a hand through his damp hair, the dark roots of his natural hair colour showing through the bleached strands. “Youngjae won’t rest until he hears that I’ve been a nice _sunbae_ to you, so I need you to say something. Clear my name.”

“That’s not it,” Youngjae whines, tapping into his keyboard with swift fingers.

Jackson has his head tilted to aside as he looks up at Mark, awaiting his announcement.

Mark laughs, rolling his eyes. “Jackson is _very nice_ ,” Mark appeases Jackson by saying, enunciating the words clearly.

Youngjae sighs, looking up from his screen to shove Jackson off his desk in mock frustration. “Manipulating Mark into saying whatever you want him to isn’t exactly the prime example of being nice,” he argues, flinching when Jackson threatens to shove him back. “Can you guys leave before you catch colds? I have the air-conditioning turned on.”

“Don’t miss me, Youngjae,” Jackson singsongs as he takes Mark by the wrist to lead him out the office. “Also, I’m the superior _sunbae_ , you heard it here first.”

“Bye, Youngjae,” Mark waves at him with his free hand, letting Jackson drag him outside towards the locker room.

“Am I really nice?” Jackson asks suddenly when they arrive at the door of the locker room. He lets go of Mark’s wrist, typing the code into the keypad next to the door. “This is completely off the record. Have I been a good person? _Sunbae_ , friend, _whatever_.”

That catches Mark off guard again, and Mark only nods meekly when Jackson turns to look at him. He tails behind Jackson into the room, going over to his locker to retrieve his belongings. “This is random,” he remarks, taking his bag out of the compartment. “But I wouldn’t be friends with you if you weren’t, well… _nice_.”

“So I’m a good friend?”

Mark thinks he imagines the way Jackson seems to put emphasis on the word “friend”. “You are.”

The ends of Jackson’s lips curl upwards into a small smile as he glances at Mark. “That’s good to hear.”

Mark wonders what this all means.

 

* * *

 

It’s difficult to say that Mark doesn’t think of Jackson that way anymore because he does. He inevitably does. Jackson hasn’t asked to fuck him since, but even if Jackson were to ask, Mark doesn’t know if he will agree as readily as he did before.

He has to start thinking about the consequences now. Making bad decisions back in high school was excusable because there’s the argument of immaturity, but now that Mark is a full-fledged adult with quite some experience in relationships under his belt, making poor choices repeatedly would be a sign of insanity. Ignorance won’t be able to cover it anymore.

Mark trusts that Jaebum won’t say anything to Jackson for the time being. Jaebum is tight-lipped, and he isn’t the type to interfere with others’ issues so he doesn’t have to worry over the possibility of Jaebum meddling. Jaebum definitely has his own problems to worry about, anyway.

Mark doesn’t mention his knowledge regarding the tension between Jaebum and Jinyoung, but he doesn’t notice it aggravate in nature so he decides to leave them be. They don’t act any differently from how their relationship has slowly morphed into in the recent weeks, but there is a certain change in how they treat each other if compared to how they were before summer rolled by. This summer hasn’t been kind to Mark or his friends.

He lets his mind wander off to something else, trying not to mope around about things he simply cannot change. The ambience of the café Jinyoung works at helps, but only if Bambam and Yugyeom weren’t so loud.

“I’m telling you that it’s the truth,” Bambam insists to Yugyeom, his movements slowing before he completely gives up wiping the counter down. “When have I ever lied to you? Tell me.”

Mark finally had the pleasure of meeting Bambam an hour ago, and unexpectedly, Bambam immediately mentioned his “close _hyung_ , Jackson” five seconds into the conversation. Mark only blinked up at him in surprise before Bambam was off to play fight with Yugyeom using a damp tablecloth as a whip.

Jinyoung looks annoyed as he flips through a manual in his hands. “Do you think I’ll ever learn how to do latte art before I leave this place?” he muses, looking at Mark over the top of the manual that covers most of his face. “I’m a pathetic barista.”

“What would you like to hear me say?”

There’s a knowing look in Jinyoung eyes as he lowers the booklet, shrugging. “Whatever’s on your mind. And I don’t just mean what you think about my coffee-making skills.”

Mark purses his lips. “You know what I’m thinking about.”

“Sadly, I do,” Jinyoung agrees, setting the reading material aside as he eyes Bambam and Yugyeom who are goofing off in a corner to make sure that they’re out of earshot. “You’re thinking about the whole Jackson thing again, aren’t you?”

Mark doesn’t want to nod, but he reluctantly does anyway.

“Can I offer you some advice?”

“You’re asking?”

Jinyoung flicks Mark behind his ear, making Mark wince in pain. “Yes, I’m asking for your permission. Care to take some advice from an old man?”

Mark sighs, exhaling a long breath that he didn’t know he was holding in him. “I guess.”

There’s a dramatic pause that envelops the café as even Bambam and Yugyeom fall silent in their corner. Jinyoung warily looks towards them, and they’re gazing right back at him in interest. “What are you doofuses looking at?” Jinyoung scolds, challenging them by pointing his nose up in the air as he speaks. “Make yourselves useful and clean up the tables on the floor.”

Mark sees Bambam nudge Yugyeom harshly in the ribs before the two of them separate to tidy up the area.

“How does the café survive when all I ever see you guys do is play around?” Mark asks Jinyoung, genuinely curious. “You get one customer every hour.”

Jinyoung stops him from going off topic with a finger pressed to his lips. “Can we go back to the issue at hand?” he interjects, looking pleased when Mark doesn’t argue with him. “This is going to sound like bad advice at first, as all good advice always does, but I think the proper solution to your predicament is simple. You have to gain the upper hand.”

 _Upper hand?_ Mark never really thought about his relationship with Jackson in terms of long and short ends of a stick. It always seemed like mutualism. “You’re joking,” Mark deadpans, shaking his head to get Jinyoung’s finger off his face.

“I’m not. To avoid getting hurt, you have to win.”

“This isn’t a video game,” Mark replies, exasperated. “At least, I don’t think it is.”

Jinyoung raises both his eyebrows and presses his lips into a thin line as he stares at Mark with a dead expression. “That’s precisely what a loser would say. I’m not saying that it’s a game, per se, but you definitely can’t lose.”

“What’s your concept of losing?” Mark turns away from Jinyoung to watch Bambam, who’s wiping down a round table in the far corner of the café. Bambam is holding an empty saucer in one hand while he works around the table with the other.

“Losing is when you get your heart broken, obviously.”

It’s not a complex concept to grasp. Mark has thought about it himself, too, only not on such blunt terms. He’s wondered if at the end of this — if there is an end to it — he’ll end up being the only party who feels any sort of hurt. What would all of this have been for?

Casual sex is supposed to be about mindless fun.

There’s no fun in feeling like you’ve been dumped when there wasn’t a concrete relationship to begin with.

When Mark meets gazes with Jinyoung again, there’s a spark of earnestness in Jinyoung’s eyes. Jinyoung reaches over the counter to cup one of Mark’s hands in his, and his palms feel warm against Mark’s cold fingers. “You have to win, and the only way to win is if you don’t get hurt,” Jinyoung starts once more. “If you don’t want to get hurt, you’re going to have to end it first.”

Mark looks down at his fingers clasped between Jinyoung’s hands. “You really think so?”

Jinyoung nods. “I know so,” he insists, biting his bottom lip after. “But I also know you very well, and I don’t think you’re going to listen to me.”

Mark doesn’t admit to that. “This is a lot like the saying about how you can’t have your cake and eat it too,” Mark muses, shaking his head. He notices Bambam approaching their general direction as he carries the dirty dish in his hand towards the kitchen. “I still don’t understand how you can’t eat that cake when it’s yours.”

“It’s a figure of speech,” Jinyoung explains, laughing. “Because after you eat it you won’t have it anymore, you dimwit.”

“The sentence structure is misleading,” Mark exclaims. He takes his hand away from Jinyoung’s as he looks over at Bambam, who promptly turns away as he disappears into the kitchen. “I really can’t have my cake and eat it too, can I?”

Jinyoung sighs. “I don’t think so, dear.”

Mark wonders yet again if it’ll be easier to just tell Jackson.

 

* * *

 

Brian, the lifeguard supposed to work the shift at the pool this evening, bails on the last minute citing a “family emergency” leaving Youngjae scrambling to find a replacement. After watching Youngjae frantically dial a few different numbers on his phone to no fruition, Mark offers to take Brian’s shift because he’s had experience from his community pool days back in America anyway. Youngjae looks incredibly relieved, and he ushers Mark out of his office as he passes him a whistle and a cap, thanking him repeatedly.

Jackson laughs when he sees Mark in the lifeguard getup, although it isn’t much different from what Mark usually wears into the children’s pool. “I’ll wait for you to clock out,” Jackson says simply after he’s had his fill of giggling. “Your shift ends when the pool closes, right?”

Mark nods, not truly sure but that’s when he plans on leaving anyway. He’s not going to get paid to do this — at least he doesn’t think he is — he’s only doing it as a favour to Youngjae, who has been nothing but sweet to him since he started working here. It’s a goodbye present of sorts, too, because he won’t see Youngjae as often anymore when they all stop working here when their new semester at university commences.

“I’ll go to the gym, then,” Jackson tells Mark, winking as he turns to leave. He looks back at Mark one last time as he walks away from the lifeguard chair Mark’s supposed to sit on later. “I hope nothing weird happens to you.”

“What’s the worst that can happen?” Mark asks, more of a question to himself than to Jackson.

Jackson shrugs, noncommittally and unhelpfully. There’s a glint of mischievousness in his eyes. “Who knows?”

 

The shift passes by without incident. Mark relives the nightmare of warning people against running on the wet ground, except in a different language this time. It was awkward for him for the first few times he had to say “No running near the pool!” in Korean, but it soon became a well-rehearsed phrase and he started being able to say it quicker and quicker as the hours passed.

He counts down to 8pm when he can finally be free of his duties. The pool empties out by 7.30pm as it gets darker, and Mark is left to sit at his post until his Fitbit finally shows the end of his shift. He rummages through the pile in his seat on the high chair, finding his phone under the towel he haphazardly threw over it.

Should Mark send Jackson a text message? Is that what Jackson told him to do? Is Jackson even waiting for him still? It’s been five hours since he last saw him, nobody can spend that much time at the gym, can they? As Mark struggles to come to a conclusion, he hears a series of quick footsteps before a huge splash into the pool.

“Excuse me, the pool is—” Mark begins, wondering _who the hell_ would want to be swimming at 8pm. He lowers his phone, shutting his mouth as he sees the figure swimming underwater with graceful strokes, definitely unable to hear him.

Mark sighs, climbing down from the chair with his towel slung over one shoulder and his phone clasped in his hand tightly. He makes his way towards the edge of the pool, waiting for the person to resurface so he can commence the awkwardness of letting him know that the pool is off limits after closing hours.

The man soon stops swimming, and sticks his head up as he kicks in standing position to stay afloat in the middle of the water. He slicks his wet hair back with both his hands, and Mark’s eyes widen when he recognises who it is.

“ _Jackson?_ ” he exclaims exasperatedly.

Jackson turns to look at him with a huge grin on his face as he registers the shock on Mark’s features. “What?” he asks, playfully doing the doggy paddle to bring himself towards the edge of the pool where Mark is standing.

“What are you doing in there?”

Jackson stops when he reaches the edge, holding onto the side for support as he looks up at Mark with big, innocent eyes. “I told you I was going to wait for you,” he explains, pressing his lips together. “I deserve to have a little fun after loitering about for _hours_ just for you.”

Mark gapes at him. “I didn’t think you’d actually wait for me.”

“What can I say? I’m a saint.”

Mark bristles at that, crossing his arms with an expression of mock annoyance. “Care to climb out of there so I can clock out? It’s dark out here and I want to go home.”

“Join me,” Jackson suggests, leaning back and backstroking away from Mark. “Come on, the water’s nice!”

“The pool is _closed_.”

“It only closes at 8 because that’s when Brian leaves, but we have a lifeguard here, don’t we?”

Mark wants to argue with him, but he doesn’t know what he can say. He only watches as Jackson floats on the surface of the water face-up, carefree with his eyes shut.

Jackson cracks an eye open to glance at him after a few seconds, and he wordlessly communicates his challenge for Mark to jump in once more.

“We’re not supposed to be here,” Mark feels like a wet blanket as he says this, but he doesn’t know how else he can respond. It’s not that he doesn’t want to join Jackson in the pool — it looks relaxing to be able to just lie in the water without a worry in the world — but pool regulations are pool regulations, aren’t they?

Not that Mark hasn’t already broken a couple of rules with how he refused to take his t-shirt off during the first few swimming classes he helped out with.

Jackson swims over to Mark once more, holding out a hand this time. “Just come on down,” he coaxes, the lilt in his voice persuasive as he stares up at Mark. “My hand’s getting cold, just take it. I’ll pull you down and catch you. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

“Jackson—” Mark starts, but then he stops when Jackson falls backwards in the water.

“Ouch, cramp!” Jackson hisses, splashing around as he tries to relieve the pain in his leg. “Oh my God! Cramp!”

“Jackson?” Mark calls, looking on in horror as Jackson almost seems to sink further into the water. “Jackson! Wait, I’ll help you out!”

Mark jumps in without a second thought after throwing his phone aside. His towel floats away from him as he breaks the surface of the water, swimming only a short distance to reach Jackson. He grabs Jackson by the arm, hoisting Jackson up against his back.

“Hold onto me,” he says, feeling Jackson still against him as he stops flailing around in the water.

“Mark,” Jackson suddenly calls from his back, his voice flat as he links his hands together and rests them on Mark’s chest. He wraps his legs around Mark’s waist like a koala, and that’s when Mark realises it was an act.

Mark furrows his eyebrows, the erratic beating of his heart stilling a bit as he registers that Jackson wasn’t really in danger earlier. “ _Jackson_ ,” he sneers, prying Jackson’s hands apart to free himself from Jackson’s grasp. “I can’t believe you.”

Jackson is chortling as Mark throws him off of his body. “Calm down, Mark,” he wheezes out in between his laughter. “ _Mark_.”

“I can’t believe you fucking—” Mark sighs loudly, shooting daggers in Jackson’s direction.

Jackson composes himself and has the audacity to look hurt when he notices Mark doesn’t seem to share his amusement.

“I thought you were really hurt,” Mark deadpans. “What the fuck, Jackson?”

“Oh,” Jackson whispers, pursing his lips. “I’m sorry, don’t be mad at me.”

Mark feels like a grade school teacher scolding their misbehaving student. He exhales deeply, averting his gaze from Jackson so he can make sense of his own reaction. He doesn’t get much peace to himself for long as Jackson invades his space with two hands firmly planted on each of his cheeks.

“Are you mad at me?” Jackson asks, and he sounds so gentle and timid that it makes Mark’s heart go soft. “I’m sorry, I thought it would’ve been funny to you too. I won’t do it again, promise.”

Mark shakes his head slowly. “It’s okay.”

“Is it?”

Mark sighs as Jackson lowers his hands. He leans back, letting himself float on the water. “I’m already down here, what did you want to do again?”

There’s a pause before Jackson excitedly splashes him with some water. “So you’re staying? Cool beans.”

Mark splutters with laughter. “‘Cool beans’? Who even says that anymore?”

“Me,” Jackson replies with ease, all his previously apologetic tone gone as he follows next to Mark in the water. “So… what are you going to do after the summer?”

It’s the first time Jackson has acknowledged that they’re not working here forever. Actually, it’s the first time any of the both of them have brought up that fact. Youngjae comments in passing about how he can’t wait to only have to be responsible for himself instead of the workings of the country club when he returns to university, but Mark and Jackson haven’t really talked to each other about what happens after they finish their last class here.

Mark hums, feeling a rumble in his ears as the water vibrates around him. “Don’t know.”

Jackson nods agreeably, one of his hands coming up to comb his fingers through Mark’s hair. “Nothing on your mind again?”

Mark lets him. “Nothing on my mind again.”

“Really,” Jackson teases.

“Really.”

Mark doesn’t know when and how, but he has his feet planted on the ground when he realises, and Jackson’s cupping his face with one hand, and Jackson’s other hand is resting on his waist. The distance between them is short as Jackson searches his eyes, and Mark feels his brain short-circuit as he tries to determine if this is a dream.

Jackson doesn’t move closer, and he only continues looking at Mark with his large brown eyes.

Mark wonders what he’s looking for.

“Mark,” Jackson finally breaks the silence to mutter, low and quiet. “Yeah?”

It’s one word, but Mark understands exactly what he’s asking. “Yeah.”

And Jackson kisses him.

The kiss is long and slow, and Jackson’s lips are pressed tightly between Mark’s own. Mark tangles his fingers in hair on the back of Jackson’s head, pushing Jackson’s face even closer to his. It’s easy to forget what they really are in times like this — something more than friends, but not quite lovers. Mark tries not to overthink the situation.

He lets himself get lost in Jackson, feeling Jackson tilt his head back as he deepens the kiss. Jackson’s grip on his waist tightens, and Jackson’s body is warm against Mark’s as they’re pressed together under the water.

There’s no way Mark will be able to explain himself if they were to be caught in this situation. Mark practically has himself draped over Jackson. It really isn’t how he wants to be found right now.

Except it is how he’s found.

Someone clears their throat from the far end of the pool and Mark actually pushes Jackson away from him immediately, his eyes darting over to see the security guard shining his torchlight in their direction. “I’m sorry boys,” the middle-aged man apologises, scratching at the back of his head. “But isn’t the pool supposed to be closed right now?”

Mark feels his face heat up in embarrassment. “No, we’re sorry,” he mumbles, gesturing for Jackson to follow behind him as he makes his way towards the ladder furthest away from the _ahjussi_. “We’re going to be going now. Sorry about that.”

The security guard walks away, and Mark doesn’t look on to see where he goes.

Jackson is tailing behind him, and there’s a rumbling of laughter that comes from him when they’re shaking the water off their bodies. “Do you think he saw anything?” Jackson asks, not at all bothered by the fact that an old man walked in on them making out.

“Yes, Jackson, he’s not blind,” Mark responds, unable to hold back a chuckle himself when he recalls how scandalised the old man looked. “That was the last time I am ever going to listen to you. I hope you savoured the moment, because it’s never happening again.”

Jackson uses his index finger to push Mark’s fringe aside from his forehead with a quirk at the edge of his lips. “Wanna come home with me?” he offers, and Mark thinks twice but still says yes.

 

* * *

 

Mark comes to the conclusion that he’ll tell Jackson. The next time he sees Jackson, he’s going to tell him. If Jackson freaks out and threatens to move to the North Pole, so be it; Mark will emigrate to the South Pole himself so they never have to meet again. What’s the worst that can happen?

_Right?_

No, Mark can’t tell him.

Jackson is a decent friend, and Mark doesn’t want to lose that connection with him. Mark hasn’t found anyone that he’s been able to talk to as relaxedly as he does with Jackson, and it’s certainly not because they are what they are. Jackson is different, in a way.

Mark’s guards are still up whenever he has to speak, but with Jackson his walls aren’t as rigid. Although he hasn’t known Jackson for a long time, sometimes he thinks that they don’t really need proper words to convey their inner thoughts. It’s evident in how they managed to work together as well as they have up till now. They don’t discuss methods to conduct the classes, it’s just an unsaid understanding of what happens next.

It would be a pity to lose Jackson as a friend.

Mark hears Jackson’s footsteps approaching him as he looks up from his seat on the lounge chair. He’s hardly ever the one waiting for Jackson in the morning, so Jackson looks shocked to see him there with their equipment already placed neatly in its usual spot for the kids to pick up later.

“You’re early!” Jackson exclaims, his sandals clapping on the floor loudly as he walks over. He sets his gym bag on the spot next to Mark on the chair, taking off his aviators. He checks the time on his phone before setting it on his bag. “It’s not even 10 yet.”

Mark eyes him awkwardly, biting back words he knows he’s not ready to say. “You should go lock up your things,” Mark suggests, taking the towel he has hanging from his neck and folding it in his lap.

“How come you’re so early, though?” Jackson asks, motioning to gather his belongings as he tries to get Mark to talk to him. “Couldn’t you wait to see me?”

“What?” Mark laughs, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

Jackson shrugs, turning away once he’s got his stuff in his hands. “You should’ve just said you missed me,” he jokes, walking towards the locker room. He turns back to wink at Mark after a few steps. “Come home with me today.”

Mark rolls his eyes, ignoring Jackson’s preposition. “Go put your things away,” he mutters dismissively, not caring if Jackson can hear him or not. He looks back down in his lap, opening up the folded towel so he can fold it again to occupy himself.

 

“You’re finally kicking!” Mark hears Jackson shout a few metres away from him. “Mark! _Mark!_ ”

Mark watches the boys kicking their feet in front of him, determining that they’re at a suitable level of safety for him to leave them alone holding onto the edge of the pool. “What is it?” he yells back at Jackson, going over to him with large steps in the water.

Jackson is in the middle of the pool with a four-year-old girl. He’s cradling her in his arms in celebration, rocking her back and forth as she giggles in delight. “Mark!” Jackson exclaims happily when Mark stops right beside him as he gives the boys he left at the side another glance. “Somi- _ah_ ,” Jackson whispers to the girl. “Why don’t you show Mark what you just did?”

Somi is one of the children they struggled with the most because of her fear of water. She refused to step foot in the pool for the first few sessions she attended, and she only recently found the courage to stand in the water with her many floats. No amount of coaxing and cajoling could get her to do anything other than stand in the pool with a frown.

“Why don’t you show me, Somi?” Mark says, excitement brewing inside him as he locks eyes with Jackson.

Jackson looks positively elated by Somi’s progress. When Somi nods in agreement, he cheers. “I’m going to help you lie down now, okay?” he instructs as he lowers her into the water, helping her to float belly-down as he supports her by the tummy. “Why don’t you start kicking a bit? Just a little bit.”

Somi does as she’s told and starts moving her feet. “I’ll move my hands too!” she shrieks in excitement, the floats on her arms keeping her elbows above water as she breaks the surface of the water with her movements. “Let go of me, Jackson- _oppa_!”

Mark beams as Jackson lightly lets go, and off Somi goes with her small movements. Jackson follows beside her as she kicks, and it’s a huge leap of improvement from her previous passiveness. “You’re doing great, Somi- _ah_!” Mark claps a few times before clasping his hands together.

He feels like a mother bird whose baby just learnt how to fly.

Jackson’s expression isn’t that much different from Mark’s own. His grin is incredibly wide and his eyes only leave Somi’s form for a split second to glimpse at Mark. When Somi stops swimming, Jackson catches her by her underarms and scoops her back up into his arms. “Great, right?” Jackson enthuses to Mark as they come back to their original spot, sharing a smile with Somi who looks equally as proud of herself.

“Amazing,” Mark agrees, reaching out to lightly pinch Somi’s cheek.

He tries not to overthink the way Jackson’s gaze lingers on him when he leaves.

 

Jackson asks if Mark’s going home with him after they’ve cleaned up. Mark expected his earlier remark to be a passing comment, just something Jackson casually said but didn’t care enough to bring back up, but Jackson remembered and he’s asking again. It sounds friendly enough as he throws the question at Mark while looking over his shoulder, his towel hanging around his neck.

“Are you coming home with me?” Jackson asks, and it’s such a simple yes or no question but Mark can’t find a way he can answer with an affirmative without self-sabotaging.

If whatever he discussed with Jinyoung was the route he should take — no, the _right choice_ — he should definitely say no. Saying no isn’t difficult, he’s been saying it all his life. “No” when Jinyoung asks to eat the last Pop-Tart in the cupboard; “No” when Jaebum goes off tangent on an uninteresting conversational topic; “No” when any of his friends ask if he’s free to go to a nightclub after he’s already curled up in bed at 8pm on a Saturday night.

“No” is somehow the toughest syllable for him to utter at this moment.

Mark blinks slowly as he looks back at Jackson. Jackson has an expression of puzzlement written all over his face, but he doesn’t push for Mark to give him an answer verbally. He’s just staring at Mark, patiently waiting in place.

“I can’t today,” Mark finally blurts out, breaking eye contact to avoid exposing his fib. He dries his hair with his towel, focusing on the back of his head as he fumbles around for his phone with his free hand. He picks the phone up, seeing notifications from a group chat flash onscreen. “I have plans tonight.”

Jackson clears his throat, smacking his lips together after. “With Jinyoung?” Jackson queries.

Mark avoids looking up at him. “Um, yeah.”

There’s a pause in their conversation. Mark pretends that whatever he’s seeing on his phone is the most interesting thing in the world, but that façade is short-lived because he eventually lets curiosity get the best of him to take a peek at Jackson.

Jackson’s eyebrows are knit together in a frown as he stands there. He sniffs after two seconds, breaking the silence. “That’s nice,” Jackson says. “Will Jaebum be there?”

Mark blanches. “No, probably not.”

Jackson nods, a movement that seems calculated to mask his true response.

“Jackson,” Mark finds himself speaking before he can properly think it through. “Do you not like Jinyoung?”

The tension in the room is palpable as Jackson stares at Mark with a pokerface. “Why would I not,” he eventually mutters, averting his eyes as he begins packing his things into his gym bag. “I barely even know him.”

“Right.”

Jackson doesn’t bother convincing Mark further and only swings his bag onto a shoulder as he purses his lips in thought. “Have fun tonight,” he says to Mark with fake enthusiasm, still avoiding Mark’s eyes. “And, um…” Mark detects a strain in Jackson’s voice as he drags out his exclamation.

Mark raises an eyebrow. “What is it?” he asks, hesitantly. It’s almost a whisper.

What could Jackson want to say at a time like this? Mark tries not to guess blindly, knowing he’ll only be disappointed if he doesn’t hear what he wants to hear if he sets his expectations too high. Realistically, considering the direction in which this conversation is flowing, Jackson is probably going to bring something up about Jinyoung again.

Maybe he’s heard about what Jinyoung’s said about him. Jaebum could very well carelessly let a remark slip past his lips about how Jinyoung doesn’t have the best impression of Jackson. That, or Yugyeom could also joke about how Jinyoung has said that he thinks Jackson is a promiscuous flirt who doesn’t take any of his relationships seriously.

Is Jackson going to ask if Mark shares Jinyoung’s opinions? That’s going to make for an awkward conversation.

Except what Jackson says is completely unexpected.

“You know this thing we’ve been doing?” Jackson starts, and it’s the first time Mark has heard his tone of voice sound anything less than confident. He doesn’t wait for Mark to reply before he continues. “This is weird, but… I think it’s best that we leave it here, if you know what I mean. That’s cool with you, right?”

So that’s what Jackson calls it — “this _thing_ we’ve been doing.” Mark tries to suppress his surprise by blinking rapidly to clear his head. “Yeah,” Mark says dumbly in response, finding himself at loss for proper words to say anything of substance.

“Great. I just don’t want it to complicate things between us, you know… with the new semester coming up and everything. It doesn’t have anything to do with you, though. It’s just me, being dumb,” Jackson trails off, smiling weakly as he finishes talking.

Mark swallows the lump in his throat, grasping at straws as he attempts to string a sentence together. “Of course,” Mark answers, more to make it seem like he has an actual say in the matter than anything else. “I think that’s for the best, too.”

The look in Jackson’s eyes is inexplicable. Mark doesn’t want to decipher if he sees pity reflected in them. “That’s good.” Jackson turns to leave now, his footsteps heavy as Mark watches him go. He looks back after two steps and his mouth falls open slightly, as if to say something of importance, but he shuts it promptly only to wave a simple goodbye in Mark’s direction before leaving the locker room.

Mark still has his phone in hand and when he looks down at it, it vibrates and lights up with a notification from Jinyoung. _I’m coming home early today_ , it reads. _Want to go out for dinner?_

Mark chews on his bottom lip as he calmly types _yes_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i decided to split this fic three ways because it’s longer than i anticipated, and i thought this was a good place to cut it as a second part because it’s the peak of conflict for the story.
> 
> for readers of my other ongoing fic, paparazzi, i’m sorry but i ran a [poll](https://twitter.com/jiaerwang/status/944352031925587973) on twitter and most of my followers wanted this for a christmas present! to the intellectuals subscribed to this since the summer—merry christmas! i love you all. have a good one with your family and loved ones.
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/jiaerwang) || [tumblr](http://maenjeongsin.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> this was my summer project of 2017, but summer has come and left and i’m still not done with it yet. i am posting this as a reminder to myself that i need to finish it before i can start any new projects. the title comes from this song.  
> mark tuan is the epitome of the college boy of my dreams.
> 
> [twitter](http://twitter.com/jiaerwang) || [tumblr](http://maenjeongsin.tumblr.com)


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